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THE 



LOVE-CHASE 



A COMEDY, IN FIVE ACTS. 



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JAMES SHERIDAN KNOWLES, 

M 

AUTHOR OF " VIRGINIUS,'" " THF DAUGHTFR," 

&c. &c. 



LONDON: 
EDWARD MOXON, DOVER STREET. 



mdcccxxxtii. 






if « r£ 






LONDON : 

PRINTED BY BRADBURY AND EVANS 

WHITEFRIARS. 



DEDICATED 



DANIEL GRANT, Esq. 



MANCHESTER, 



BT HIS ATTACHED AND GRATEFUL SERVANT, 



J. S. KNOAVLES. 



: 



CHARACTERS. 



Sir William Fondlove, an old Baronet 

Waller, in love with Lydia 

Wildrake, a Sportsman . 

Trueworth, a friend of Sir William 

Neville, ^ 

J- Friends to Waller 
Humphreys, J 

Lash . . 

Chargewell, a Landlord . 

George, a Waiter ...... 

First Lawyer 

Widow Green 

Constance, Daughter to Sir William Fondlove 
Lydia, Lady's Maid to Widow Green 
Alice, House-keeper to Master Waller . 
Phozbe, Maid to Constance . 
Amelia ....... 

First Lady 



Mr. Strickland. 
Mr. Elton. 
Mr. Webster. 
Mr. Hemmings. 
Mr. Worrell. 
Mr. Hutchings. 
Mr. Ross. 
Mr. Edwards. 
Mr. Bishop. 
Mr. Ray. 

Mrs. Glover. 
Mrs. Nisbett. 
Miss Vandenhoff' 
Mrs. Tayleure. 

M^ss Wrighten. 
Miss Gal lot. 
Mrs. Gallot. 



Scene — London. 



THE LOVE-CHASE. 



ACT I. 

SCENE I.— THE LOBBY OF AN INN. 



Enter Chargewell, hurriedly. 

CHARGEWELL. 

What, hoa there ! Hoa, Sirrahs ! More wine ! Are 
the knaves asleep ? Let not our guests cool, or we shall 
starve the till ! Good waiting, more than viands and wine, 
doth help to make the Inn ! — George ! Richard ! — Ralph ! 
— Where are you ? {Enter George, 

GEORGE. 

Here am I, Sir. 

CHARGEWELL. 

Have they taken in more wine to that company ? 

GEORGE. 

Yes, Sir. 

CHARGEWELL. 

That's right. Serve them as quick as they order ! A 
fair company ! I have seen them here before. Take care 

B 



2 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act i. 

they come again. A choice company ! That Master 
Waller, I hear, is a fine spirit — leads the town. Pay him 
much duty. A deep purse, and easy strings ! 

GEORGE. 

And there is another, Sir ; — a capital gentleman, though 
from the country. A gentleman most learned in dogs and 
horses ! He doth talk wondrous edification : — one Master 
Wildrake. I wish you could hear him, Sir. 

CHARGEWELL. 

Well, well! — attend to them. Let them not cool o'er 
the liquor, or their calls will grow slack. Keep feeding the 
fire while it blazes, and the blaze will continue. Look to 
it well ! 

GEORGE. 

I will, Sir. 

CHARGEWELL. 

And be careful, above all, that you please Master Waller. 
He is a guest worth pleasing ; he is a gentleman. — Free order, 
quick pay ! 

GEORGE. 

And such, I'll dare be sworn, is the other. A man of 
mighty stores of knowledge — most learned in dogs and horses ! 
Never was I so edified by the discourse of mortal man. 

[ They go out severally. 



scene n.l THE LOVE-CHASE, 



SCENE II.— A ROOM. 



Master Waller, Master Wildrake, Master True- 
worth, Master Neville, and Master Humphreys, 
sitting round a table. 

master waller. 

Well, Master Wildrake, speak you of the chase ! 

To hear you one doth feel the bounding steed ; 

You bring the hounds and game, and all to view — 

All scudding to the jovial huntsman's cheer ! 

And yet I pity the poor crowned deer, 

And always fancy His by Fortune's spite, 

That lordly head of his, he bears so high — 

Like Virtue, stately in calamity, 

And hunted by the human, worldly hound — 

Is made to fly before the pack, that straight 

Burst into song at prospect of his death. 

You say their cry is harmony ; and yet 

The chorus scarce is music to my ear, 

When I bethink me what it sounds to his ; 

Nor deem I sweet the note that rings the knell 

Of the once merry forester ! 

xevtlle. 

The same things 

Do please or pain, according to the thought 

We take of them. Some smile at their own death, 

Which most do shrink from, as a beast of prey 

b 2 



4 THE LOVE-CHASE. 

It kills to look upon. But you, who take 
Such pity of the deer, whence follows it 
You hunt more costly game ? — the comely maid, 
To wit, that waits on buxom Widow Green ? 

HUMPHREYS. 

The comely maid ! — Such term not half the sum 
Of her rich beauty gives ! Were rule to go 
By loveliness, I know not in the court, 
Or city, lady might not fitly serve 
That lady serving-maid ! 

TRUEWORTH. 

Come ! your defence ? 

Why show you ruth where there's least argument, 

Deny it where there's most ? You will not plead ? 

Oh, Master Waller, where we use to hunt 

We think the sport no crime. 

HUMPHREYS. 

I give you joy, 

You prosper in your chase. 

MASTER WALLER. 

Not so ! The maid 

In simple honesty I must pronounce 

A miracle of virtue, well as beauty. 

NEVILLE. 

And well do I believe you, Master Waller ; 
Those know I who have ventur'd gift and promise 
But for a minute of her ear — the boon 
Of a poor dozen words spoke through a chink — 



scene ii.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 

And come off bootless, save the haughty scorn 
That cast their bounties back to them again. 

TRUEWORTH. 

That warrants her what Master Waller speaks her. 
Is she so very fair ? 

NEVILLE. 

Yes, Master Trueworth ; 

And I believe indeed an honest maid ; 

But love's the coin to market with for love, 

And that knows Master Waller. On pretence 

Of sneaking kindness for gay Widow Green, 

He visits her for sake of her fair maid ! 

To whom a glance or word avails to hint 

His proper errand : and — as glimpses only 

Do only serve to whet the wish to see — 

Awakens interest to hear the tale 

So stintingly that's told. I know his practice — 

Luck to you, Master Waller ! If you win, 

You merit it, who take the way to win ! 

MASTER WALLER. 

Good, Master Neville ! 

TRUEWORTH. 

I should laugh to see 

The poacher snar'd ! — the maid, for mistress sought, 

Turn out a wife. 

NEVILLE. 

How say you, Master Waller ? 
Things quite as strange have fallen ! 



6 THE LOVE-CHASE, [act i. 

MASTER WALLER, 

Impossible ! 

TRUEWORTH. 

Impossible ! Most possible of things — 

If thou'rt in love ! Where merit lies itself, 

What matters it to want the name, which, weighed, 

Is not the worth of so much breath as it takes 

To utter it ! If, but from Nature's hand, 

She is all you could expect of gentle blood, 

Face, form, mien, speech ; with these, what to belong 

To lady more behoves— thoughts delicate, 

Affections generous, and modesty — 

Perfectionating, brightening crown of all f— 

If she hath these — true titles to thy heart — 

W T hat doth she lack thafs title to thy hand ? 

The name of lady, which is none of these, 

But may belong without ? Thou might'st do worse 

Than marry her ! Thou would'st, undoing her ! 

Yea, by my mothers name, a shameful act 

Most shamefully performed ! 

master waller — starting up and draiving* 
Sirf 

neville and the others — interposing. 
Gentlemen ! 

TRUEWORTH. 

All's right ! Sit down ! — I will not draw again. 
A word with you: If— as a man — thou say'st, 
Upon thy honour, I have spoken wrong, 



scene ii.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 

I'll ask thy pardon ! — though I never hold 
Communion with thee more ! 

master waller — after a pause, putting up his sword. 

My sword is sheath 1 d ! 
Wilt let me take thy hand ? 

TRUEWORTH. 

'Tis thine, good Sir, 

And faster than before — A fault confessed, 

Is a new virtue added to a man ! 

Yet let me own some blame was mine. A truth 

May be too harshly told — but 'tis a theme 

I am tender on — I had a sister, Sir 

You understand me ! — 'Twas my happiness 
To own her once — I would forget her now ! — 
I have forgotten ! — I know not if she lives ! — 
Things of such strain as we were speaking of, 
Spite of myself, remind me of her ! — So ! 

NEVILLE. 

Sit down ! Let's have more wine. 

WILDRAKE. 

Not so, good Sirs. 

Partaking of your hospitality, 

I have overlook'd good friends I came to visit, 

And who have late become sojourners here — 

Old country friends and neighbours, and with whom 

I e'en take up my quarters. Master Trueworth, 

Bear "witness for me. 



8 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act i. 

TRUEWORTH. 

It is even so. 

Sir William Fondlove and his charming daughter. 

WILDRAKE. 

Ay, neighbour Constance. Charming, does he say ? 

Yes, neighbour Constance is a charming girl 

To those that do not know her. If she plies me 

As hard as was her custom in the country, 

I should not wonder though, this very day, 

I seek the home I quitted for a month ! [Aside* 

Good even, gentlemen. 

HUMPHREYS. 

Nay, if you go, 

We all break up, and sally forth together. 

MASTER WALLER. 

Be it so — Your hand again, good Master True worth ! 
I am sorry I did pain you. 

TRUEWORTH. 

It is thine, Sir. [ They go out. 



SCENE III.— SIR WILLIAM FONDLOVES HOUSE. 

A ROOM. 



Enter Sir William. 

SIR WILLIAM. 

At sixty-two, to be in leading-strings, 

Is an old child — and with a daughter, too ! 



scene in.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 

Her mother held me ne'er in check so strait 
As she. I must not go but where she likes, 
Nor see but whom she likes, do anything 
But what she likes ! — A slut, bare twenty-one ! 
Nor minces she commands ! — A brigadier 
More coolly doth not give his orders out 
Than she ! Her waiting-maid is aide-de-camp ; 
My steward adjutant ; my lacqueys sergeants ; 
That bring me her high pleasure how I march 
And counter-march — when I'm on duty — when 
I'm off — when suits it not to tell it me 
Herself — " Sir William, thus my mistress says ! " 
As saying it were enough — no will of mine 
Consulted ! I will marry. Must I serve, 
Better a wife, my mistress, than a daughter ! 
And yet the vixen says, if I do marry, 
I'll find she'll rule my wife as well as me ! 
Enter Trueworth. 
Ah, Master Trueworth ! Welcome, Master Trueworth ! 

TRUEWORTH. 

Thanks, Sir ; I am glad to see you look so well ! 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Ah, Master Trueworth, when one turns the hill, 
'Tis rapid going down ! We climb by steps ; J 
By strides we reach the bottom. Look at me, 
And guess my age. 

TRUEWORTH. 

Turned fifty. 



10 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Ten years more ! 

How marvellously well I wear ! I think 

You would not flatter me ! — But scan me close, 

And pryingly, as one who seeks a thing 

He means to find — What signs of age dost see ? 

TRUEWORTH. 

None ! 

SIR WILLIAM. 

None about the corners of the eyes ? 

Lines that diverge like to the spider's joists. 

Whereon he builds his airy fortalice ? 

They call them crow's feet — has the ugly bird 

Been perching there ? — Eh ?— Well ? 

TRUEWORTH. 

There's something like, 

But not what one must see, unless he's blind 

Like steeple on a hill. 

sir william— after a pause. 
Your eyes are good ! 
I am certainly a wonder for my age ; 
I walk as well as ever ! Do I stoop ? 

TRUEWORTH. 

A plummet from your head would find your heel, 

sir WILLIAM. 

It is my make — my make, good Master Trueworth ; 

I do not study it. Do you observe 

The hollow in my back ? That's natural. 

As now I stand, so stood I when a child, 



scene in.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 

A rosy chubby boy ! — I am youthful to 
A miracle ! My arm is firm as 'twas 
At twenty. Feel it ! 

master trueworth—; feeling Sir William^ arm, 
It is deal ! 

sir willjam. 
Oak — oak 

Isn't it, Master Trueworth ? Thou hast known me 
Ten years and upwards. Think'st my leg is shrunk ? 

TRUEWORTH. 



No. 

No ! not in the calf ? 



SIR WILLIAM. 



TRUEWORTH. 

As big a calf 
As ever. 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Thank you, thank you — I believe it ! 

When others waste, 'tis growing time with me ! 

I feel it, Master Trueworth ! Vigour, Sir, 

In every joint of me ! — could run ! could leap ! 

Why shouldn't I marry ? Knife and fork I play 

Better than many a boy of twenty-five — 

Why shouldn't I marry ? If they come to wine, 

My brace of bottles can I carry home, 

And ne'er a headache. Death ! why shouldn't I marry ? 

TRUEWORTH. 

I see in nature no impediment. 



12 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act. 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Impediment ? she's all appliances ! — 

And fortuned with me, too ! The Widow Green 

Gives hints to me. The pleasant Widow Green ! 

Whose fortieth year, instead of autumn, brings 

A second Summer in. Odds bodikins, 

How young she looks ! What life is in her eyes ! 

What ease is in her gait ! while, as she walks 

Her waist, still tapering, takes it pliantly ! 

How lollingly she bears her head withal : 

On this side now — now that ! When enters she 

A drawing room, what worlds of gracious things 

Her courtesy says ! — she sinks with such a sway, 

Greeting on either hand the company, 

Then slowly rises to her state again ! 

She is the empress of the card-table ! 

Her hand and arm ! — Gods, did you see her deal — 

With curvM and pliant wrist dispense the pack, 

Which, at the touch of her fair fingers fly ! 

How soft she speaks — how very soft ! Her voice 

Comes melting from her round, and swelling throat, 

Reminding you of sweetest, mellowest things — 

Plums, peaches, apricots and nectarines — 

Whose bloom is poor to paint her cheeks and lips. 

By Jove, I'll marry ! 

TRUEWORTH. 

You forget, Sir William, 
I do not know the lady. 



scene in.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 13 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Great your loss. 

By all the Gods I'll marry !— But my daughter 

Must needs be married first. She rules my house ; 

Would rule it still, and will not have me wed. 

A clever, handsome, darling, forward minx ! 

When I became a widower, the reins 

Her mother dropp'd she caught, — a hoyden girl ; 

Nor since would e'er give up, however I strove 

To coax or catch them from her. One way still 

Or t'other she would keep them — laugh, pout, plead ; 

Now vanquish me with water, now with fire ; 

Would box my face, and, ere I well could ope 

My mouth to chide her, stop it with a kiss ! 

The monkey ! what a plague she's to me ! — How 

I love her ! how I love the Widow Green ! 

TRUEWORTH. 

Then marry her ! 

SIR WILLIAM. 

I tell thee, first of all 

Must needs my daughter marry. — See I not 

A hope of that ; she nought affects the sex: 

Comes suitor after suitor — all in vain. 

Fast as they bow she courtesies, and says " Nay ! " 

Or she, a woman, lacks a woman's heart, 

Or hath a special taste which none can hit. 

TRUEWORTH. 

Or taste, perhaps, which is already hit. 



14 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act i, 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Eh! —how? 

TRUEWORTH. 

Remember you no country friend, 
Companion of her walks — her squire to church, 
Her beau whenever she went visiting — 
Before she came to town ? 

SIR WILLIAM. 

No! 

TRUEWORTH. 

None ? — art sure ? 

No playmate when she was a girl ? 

SIR WILLIAM. 

G!ay! 

That Master Wildrake I did pray thee go 
And wait for at the Inn, but had forgotten. 
Is he come ? 

TRUEWORTH. 

And in the house. — Some friends that met him, 
As he alighted, laid strong hands upon him 
And made him stop for dinner. We had else 
Been earlier with you. 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Ha ! I am glad he is come. 

TRUEWORTH. 

She may be smit with him. 

SIR WILLIAM, 

As cat with dog ! 



scene in.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 15 

TRUEWORTH. 

He heard her voice as we did mount the stairs, 
And darted straight to join her. 

SIR WILLIAM. 

You shall see 

What wondrous calm and harmony take place, 

When fire meets gunpowder ! 

CONSTANCE — without. 

Who sent for you ? 
What made you come ? 

WILD RAKE — Without. 

To see the town, not you ! — 
A kiss ! 

CONSTANCE. 

I vow I'll not. 

WILDRAKE. 

I swear you shall. 

CONSTANCE. 

A saucy cub ! I vow, I had as lieve 
Your whipper-in had kiss'd me. 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Do you hear ? 

TRUEWORTH. 

I do. Most pleasing discords ! 

Enter Constance and Wildrake. 

CONSTANCE. 

Father, speak 

To neighbour Wildrake. 



16 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act i. 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Very glad to see him ! 

WILD RAKE. 

I thank you, good Sir William ! Give you joy 
Of your good looks ! 

CONSTANCE. 

What, Phoebe !— Phcebe !— Phoebe ! 

SIR WILLIAM. 

What want'st thou with thy lap-dog ? 

CONSTANCE. 

Only, Sir, 

To welcome neighbour Wildrake ! What a figure 

To shew himself in town ! 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Wilt hold thy peace ? 

CONSTANCE. 

Yes ; if you'll lesson me to hold my laughter. 
Wildrake ! 

WILDRAKE. 

Well? 

CONSTANCE. 

Let me walk thee in the Park — 
How they would stare at thee ! 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Wilt ne'er give o'er ? 

WILDRAKE. 

Nay, let her have her way — I heed her not ! 
Though to more courteous welcome I have right ; 
Although I am neighbour Wildrake ! Reason is reason ! 



scene in.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 

CONSTANCE. 

And right is right ! so welcome, neighbour Wildrake, 

I am very, very, very glad to see you ! 

Come, for a quarter of an hour we'll e'en 

Agree together ! — How do your horses, neighbour ? 

WILDRAKE. 



Pshaw ! 

And your dogs ? 

Pshaw ! 



CONSTANCE. 



WILDRAKE. 



CONSTANCE. 

Whipper-in and huntsman ? 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Converse of things thou know'st to talk about ! 

CONSTANCE. 

And keep him silent, father, when I know 

He cannot talk of any other things ? 

How does thy hunter ? What a sorry trick 

He played thee t'other day, to balk his leap 

And throw thee, neighbour ! Did he balk the leap ? 

Confess ! You sportsmen never are to blame ! 

Say you are fowlers, 'tis your dog's in fault ; 

Say you are anglers, 'tis your tackle's wrong ; 

Say you are hunters, why the honest horse 

That bears your weight, must bear your blunders too ! 

Why, whither go you ? 

WILDRAKE. 

Any where from thee. 



18 THE LOVE-CHASE, [ ACT r . 

CONSTANCE. 



With me you mean. 
I mean it not. 



WTLDRAKE. 



CONSTANCE. 

You do ! 

I'll give you fifty reasons for't — and first, 
Where you go, neighbour, I'll go ! 
( They go out — Wildrake pettishly — Constance laughing.) 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Do you mark ? 
Much love is there ! 

TRUE-WORTH. 

Indeed, a heap, or none. 
I'd wager on the heap ! 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Ay ! — Do you think 

These discords, as in the musicians' art, 

Are subtle servitors to harmony ? 

That all this war's for peace ? This wrangling but 

A masquerade where love his roguish face 

Conceals beneath an ugly visor ! — Well ? 

TRUE WORTH. 

Your guess and my conceit are not a mile 
Apart. Unlike to other common flowers, 
The flower of love shows various in the bud, 
'Twill look a thistle, and 'twill blow a rose ! 
And with your leave I'll put it to the test ; 
Affect myself, for thy fair daughter, love — 



scene in.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 19 

Make him my confidant — dilate to him 

Upon the graces of her heart and mind, 

Feature and form — that well may comment bear — 

Till — like the practised connoisseur, who finds 

A gem of art out in a household picture 

The unskill'd owner held so cheap he grudg'd 

Renewal of the chipp'd and tarnished frame, 

But values now as priceless — I arouse him 

Into a quick sense of the worth of that 

Whose merit hitherto, from lack of skill, 

Or dulling habit of acquaintanceship, 

He has not been awake to. 

CONSTANCE — without. 

Neighbour Wildrake ! 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Hither they come. I fancy well thy game ! 

O to be free to marry Widow Green ! 

I'll call her hence anon — then ply him well. 

[Sir William goes out, 

WILDRAKE — without. 

Nay, neighbour Constance ! 

TRUEWORTH. 

He is high in storm. — (Enter Wildrake and Constance.) 

WILDRAKE. 

To Lincolnshire, I tell thee. 

CONSTANCE. 

Lincolnshire ! 

What, prithee, takes thee off to Lincolnshire ? 

c 2 



20 THE LOVE-CHASE, [act i 

WILDRAKE. 

Too great delight in thy fair company. 

TEUEWORTH. 

Nay, Master Wildrake, why away so soon? 

You are scarce a day in town ! — Extremes like this, 

And starts of purpose, are the signs 'tis love, 

Though imraatured as yet. [Aside. 

CONSTANCE. 

He's long enough 

In town ! What should he here ? He's lost in town : 

No man is he for concerts, balls or routs ! 

No game he knows at cards, save rare Pope Joan ! 

He ne'er could master dance beyond a jig; 

And as for music, nothing to compare 

To the melodious yelping of a hound 

Except the braying of his huntsman's horn ! 

Ask him to stay in town ! 

SIR WILLIAM — without 

Hoa, Constance ! 

CONSTANCE. 

Sir !— 

Neighbour, a pleasant ride to Lincolnshire ! 

Good bye ! 

SIR WILLIAM — idthout. 

Why, Constance ! 

CONSTANCE. 

Coming, Sir ! Shake hands ! 

Neighbour, good bye ! Don't look so wo-begone ; 

'Tis but a two-days' ride, and thou wilt see 



scene in.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 21 

Rover, and Spot, and Nettle, and the rest 
Of thy dear country friends ! 

SIR WILLIAM — Without. 

Constance ! I say. 

CONSTANCE. 

Anon ! — Commend me to the gentle souls, 

And pat them for me ! — Will you, neighbour Wildrake? 

SIR WILLIAM without. 

Why, Constance ! Constance ! 

CONSTANCE. 

In a moment, Sir ! 

Good bye ! — Fd cry, dear neighbour, if I could ! 

Good bye ! — A pleasant day when next you hunt ! 

And, prithee, mind thy horse don't balk his leap ! 

Good bye — and, after dinner, drink my health ! 

" A bumper, Sirs, to neighbour Constance !" — Do ! — 

And give it with a speech, wherein unfold 

My many graces, more accomplishments, 

And virtues topping either — in a word, 

How I'm the fairest, kindest, best of neighbours ! 

[They go out severally. — Trueworth trying to pacify 
W ild r ake — Con stance laughing. 



22 THE LOVE-CHASE.; (act ii. 



ACT II. 
SCENE I— A ROOM IN SIR WILLIAM'S HOUSE. 



Enter Trueworth and Wild rake. 

WILDRAKE. 

Nay, master Trueworth, I must needs begone ! 
She treats me worse and worse ! I am a stock, 
That words have none to pay her. For her sake 
I quit the town to-day. I like a jest, 
But hers are jests past bearing. I am her butt 
She nothing does but practise on ! A plague ! — 
Fly her shafts ever your way ? 

TRUEWORTH. 

Would they did ! 

WILDRAKE. 

Art mad ? — or wishest she should drive thee so ? 

TRUEWORTH. 

Thou knowest her not. 

WILDRAKE. 

I know not neighbour Constance ? 
Then know I not myself, or any thing 
Which as myself I know ! 

TRUEWORTH. 

Heigh ho ! 



scene i THE LOVE-CHASE. "23 

WILDKAKE. 

Heigh ho ! 

Wliv what a burden that for a man's song ! 
^Twould fit a maiden that was sick for love. 
Heigh ho ! Come ride with me to Lincolnshire, 
And turn thy 6i heigh ho !" into " hilly ho \? 

TRUEWORTH. 

Nay, rather tarry thou in town with me. 

Men sometimes find a friend's hand of avail 

When useless proves their own. Wilt lend me thine ? 

WILDRAKE. 

Or may my horse break down in a steeple chase ! 

TRUEWORTH. 

A steeple chase ! What made thee think of that ? 
Fm for the steeple — not to ride a race, 
Only to get there ! — nor alone in sooth ; 
But in fair company ! 

WILDRAKE. 

Thou rt not in love ! 

TRUEWORTH. 

Heigh ho ! 

WILDRAKE. 

Thou wouldst not marry ! 

TRUEWORTH. 

With your help. 

WILDRAKE. 

And whom, I prithee? 

TRUEWORTH. 

Gentle mistress Constance ! 



24 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act ir. 

WILDRAKE. 

What ! — neighbour Constance ? — Never did I dream 

That mortal man would fall in love with her. [Aside. 

In love with neighbour Constance ! — I feel strange 

At thought that she should marry ! — (Aside) Go to church 

With neighbour Constance ! That's a steeple chase 

I never thought of. I feel very strange ! 

What seest in neighbour Constance? 

TRUEWORTH. 

Lovers' eyes 

See with a vision proper to themselves, 

Yet thousand eyes will vouch what mine affirm. 

First, then, I see in her the mould express 

Of woman — stature, feature, body, limb — 

Breathing the gentle sex we value most, 

When most 'tis at antipodes with ours ! 

WILDRAKE. 

You mean that neighbour Constance is a woman. 
Why, yes ; she is a woman certainly. 

TRUEWORTH. 

So much for person. Now for her complexion. 
What shall we liken to her dainty skin ? — 
Her arm for instance ? 

WILDRAKE. 

Snow will match it. 

TRUEWORTH. 

Snow ! — 

It is her arm without the smoothness on't ; 

Then is not snow transparent, 'Twill not do. 



scene i.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 25 

WILDRAKE. 

A pearl's transparent ! 

TRUEWORTH. 

So it is, but yet 

Yields not elastic to the thrilled touch ! 
I know not what to liken to her arm 
Except its beauteous fellow ! Q, to be 
The chosen friend of two such neighbours ! 

WILDRAKE. 

Would 

His tongue would make a halt. He makes too free 

With neighbour Constance ! Can't he let her arms 

Alone ! I trust their chosen friend 

Will ne'er be he ! I'm vex'd. [Aside. 

TRUEWORTH. 

But graceful things 

Grow doubly graceful in the graceful use ! 

Hast mark'd her ever walk the drawing-room ? 

wildr A ke — snappishly. 
No. 

TRUEWORTH. 

No ! Why, where have been your eyes ? 

WILDRAKE. 

In my head ! 

But I begin to doubt if open yet. lAside. 

TRUEWORTH. 

Yet that's a trifle to the dance ; down which 
She floats as though she were a form of air ; 
The ground feels not her foot, or tells not out , 



THE LOVE-CHASE. [act 11. 

Her movements are the painting of the strain, 
Its swell, its fall, its mirth, its tenderness ! 
Then is she fifty Constances ! each moment 
Another one, and each, except its fellow, 
Without a peer ! You have danced with her ? 

WILDRAKE. 

I hate 

To dance ! I can't endure to dance !— Of course 

You have danced with her ? 

TRUE WORT II. 

I have. 
You have? 
I have. 



WILDRAKE. 



TRUEWORTR. 



WILDRAKE. 

I do abominate to dance! — Could carve 
Fiddlers and company ! A dancing man 
To me was ever like a dancing dog ! 
Save less to be endured! — Ne'er saw I one 
But I bethought me of the master's whip. 

TRUEWORTH. 

A man might bear the whip to dance with her ! 

WILDRAKE. 

Not if I had the laying of it on I 

TRUEWORTH. 

Well ; let that pass. The lady is the theme. 

WILDRAKE. 

Yes; make an end of it ! — I'm sick of it. [Aside. 



SCENE 



THE LOVE-CHASE. 27- 



TRUE WORTH. 

How well she plays the harpsichord and harp ! 
How well she sings to them ! Whoe'er would prove 
The power of song, should hear thy neighbour sing, 
Especially a love song ! 

WILDRAKE. 

Does she sing 
Such songs to thee ? 

TRUEWORTH. 

yes, and constantly. 
For such I ever ask her. 

WILDRAKE. 

Forward minx ! [Aside. 

Maids should not sing love songs to gentlemen ! 
Think'st neighbour Constance is a girl to love ? 

TRUEWORTH. 

A girl to love ? — Ay, and with all her soul ! 

WILDRAKE. 

How know you that ? 

TRUEWORTH. 

1 have studied close the sex. 

WILDRAKE. 

You town-rakes are the devil for the sex ! [Aside. 

TRUEWORTH. 

Not your most sensitive and serious maid 
I'd always take for deep impressions. Mind 
The adage of the bow. The pensive brow 
I have oft seen bright in wedlock, and anon 
O'ercast in widowhood ; then bright again, 



28 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act ii. 

Ere half the season of the weeds was out. 
While, in the airy one, IVe known one cloud 
Forerunner of a gloom that ne'er clear'd up — 
So would it prove with neighbour Constance. Not 
On superficial ground she'll ever love ; 
But once she does, the odds are ten to one 
Her first love is her last ! 

WILDRAKE. 

I wish I ne'er 

Had come to town ! I was a happy man 

Among my dogs and horses {aside). Hast thou broke 

Thy passion to her? 

TRUEWORTH. 

Never. 

WILDRAKE. 

Never ? 

TRUEWORTH. 

No. 

I hoped you'd act my proxy there. 

WILDRAKE. 

I thank you. 

TRUEWORTH. 

I knew 'twould be a pleasure to you. 

WILDRAKE. 

Yes; 

A pleasure ! — an unutterable pleasure ! 

TRUEWORTH. 

Thank you ! You make my happiness your own. 



scene i] THE LOVE-CHASE. 23 

WILDRAKE. 

I do. 

TRUE WORTH. 

I see you do. Dear Master Wiklrake ! 
O, what a blessing is a friend in need, 
You'll go and court your neighbour for me ? 

WILDRAKE. 

Yes. 

TRUE WORTH. 

And says she " nay " at first, you'll press again. 

WILDRAKE. 

Ay? and again ! 

TRUEWORTH. 

There's one thing I mistrust — yea, most mistrust, 
That of my poor deserts you'll make too much. 

WILDRAKE. 

Fear any thing but that. 

TRUEWORTH. 

'Twere better far 

You slightly spoke of them. 

WILDRAKE. 

You think so ? 

TRUEWORTH. 

Yes, 

Or rather did not speak of them at all. 

WILDRAKE. 

You think so ? 

TRUEWORTH. 

Yes. 



30 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act ii. 

WiLDKAKE. 

Then I'll not say a word 
About them. 

TRUEWORTH. 

Thank you ! A judicious friend 

Is better than a zealous — You are both ! 

I see you'll plead my cause as 'twere your own ; 

Then stay in town, and win your neighbour for me 

Make me the envy of a score of men 

That die for her as I do. — Make her mine, 

And when the last " Amen !" declares complete 

The mystic tying of the holy knot, 

And "Tore the priest a blushing wife she stands, 

Be thine the right to claim the second kiss 

She pays for change from maidenhood to wifehood. [Goes out 

WILDEAKE. 

Take that thyself ! The first be mine, or none. 

A man in love with neighbour Constance ! — Never 

Dream'd I that such a thing could come to pass ! 

Such person, such endowments, such a soul ! 

I never thought to ask myself before 

If she were man or woman ! Suitors, too, 

Dying for her ! I'll e'en make one among 'em ! 

Woo her to go to church along with him, 

And for my pains the privilege to take 

The second kiss ! I'll take the second kiss, 

And first one too — and last ! No man shall touch 

Her lips but me. I'll massacre the man 

That looks upon her ! Yet what chance have I 



scene i.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 31 

With lovers of the town, whose study 'tis 

To please your lady belles ! — who dress, walk, talk, 

To hit their tastes — what chance, a country squire 

Like me ? Yet your true fair, I have heard, prefers 

The man before his coat at any time, 

And such a one must neighbour Constance be. 

I'll show a limb with any of them ! Silks 

I'll wear, nor keep my legs in cases more. 

I'll learn to dance town-dances, and frequent 

Their concerts ! Die away at melting strains, 

Or seem to do so — far the easier thing, 

And as effective quite ; leave nought undone 

To conquer neighbour Constance. 

Enter Lash. 

LASH. 

Sir. 

WILDRAKE. 

Well, sir. 

LASH. 

So please you, sir, your horse is at the door. 

WILDRAKE. 

Unsaddle him again and put him up. 
And, hark you, get a tailor for me, sir — 
The rarest can be found. 

LASH. 

The man's below, sir, 

That owns the mare your worship thought to buy. 

WILDRAKE. 

Tell him I do not want her, sir. 



32 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act ii. 

LASH. 
I VOW, 

You will not find her like in Lincolnshire. 

WILDRAKE. 

Go to ! She's spavin'd. 

LASH. 

Sir! 

WILDRAKE. 

Touch'd in the wind. 

LASH. 

I trust my master be not touch'd in the head ! I Aside. 

I vow, a faultless beast ! 

WILDRAKE. 

I want her not, 

And that's your answer — Go to the hosier's, sir, 
And bid him send me samples of his gear, 
Of twenty different kinds. 

LASH. 

I will, sir. Sir! 

WILDRAKE. 

Well, sir. 

LASH. 

Squire Brush's huntsman's here, and says 
His master's kennel is for sale. 

WILDRAKE. 

The dogs 

Are only fit for hanging ! 

LASH. 

Finer bred — 



scene ii.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 33 

WILDRAKE. 

Sirrah, if more to me thou talk'st of dogs 

Horses, or aught that to thy craft belongs, 

Thou may'st go hang for me ! — A cordwainer 

Go fetch me straight — the choicest in the town. 

Away, sir ! Do thy errands smart and well 

As thou canst crack thy whip ! — (Lash goes out.) — Dear 

neighbour Constance, 
I'll give up horses, dogs, and all for thee! \_Goes out. 



SCENE II. 



Enter Widow Green and Lydia. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Lydia, my gloves. If Master Waller calls, 

I shall be in at three ; and say the same 

To old Sir William Fondlove. Tarry yet ! — 

What progress think you make I in the heart 

Of fair young Master Waller ? Gods, my girl, 

It is a heart to win and man as well ! 

How speed I, think you ? Didst, as I desired, 

Detain him in my absence when he call'd, 

And, without seeming, sound him touching me ? 

LYDIA. 

Yes. 

WIDOW GREEX. 

And affects he me, or not ? How guess you ? 
What said he of me ? LookM he balk'd, or not, 

D 



34 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act ii. 

To find me not at home ? Inquired he, when 
I would be back, as much he longed to see me ? 
What did he — said he ? Come ! — Is he in love, 
Or like to fall into it ? Goes well my game, 
Or shall I have my labour for ray pains ? 

LYDIA. 

I think he is in love. — O poor evasion ! 

to love truth, and yet not dare to speak it ! [Aside. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

You think he is in love. Fm sure of it, 

As well have ask'd you has he eyes and ears, 

And brain and heart to use them ? Maids do throw 

Trick after trick away, but widows know 

To play their cards ! How am I looking, Lydia ? 

LYDIA. 

E'en as you ever look. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Handsome, my girl ? 

Eh ? Clear in my complexion ? Eh ? — brimful 

Of spirits ? not too much of me, nor yet 

Too little ? — Eh ? — A woman worth a man ? 

Look at me, Lydia ! Would you credit, girl, 

1 was a scare-crow before marriage ? 

LYDIA. 

Nay !— 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Girl, but I tell thee " yea.*" That gown of thine — 
And thou art slender — would have hung about me ! 
There's something of me now ! good sooth, enough ! 



scene ii.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 3o 

Lydia, I'm quite contented with myself; 
I'm just the thing, methinks, a widow should be. 
So Master Waller, you believe, affects me ? 
But, Lydia, not enough to hock the fish ; 
To prove the angler's skill, it must be caught ; 
And lovers, Lydia, like the angler's prey — 
Which when he draws it near the landing place 
Takes warning and runs out the slender line, 
And with a spring perchance jerks off the hold — 
When we do fish for them, and hook, and think 
They are all but in the creel, will make the dart 
That sets them free to roam the flood again ! 

LYDIA. 

Is't so ? 

WIDOW GHEEN. 

Thou'lt find it so, or better luck 
Than many another maid ! Now mark me, Lydia, 
Sir William Fondlove fancies me. 'Tis well ! 
I do not fancy him ! What should I do 
With an old man ? — Attend upon the gout, 
Or the rheumatics ! Wrap me in the cloud 
Of a darken'd chamber — 'stead of shining out, 
The sun of balls, and routs, and gala days ! 
But he affects me, Lydia ; so he may ! 
Now take a lesson from me — Jealousy 
Had better go with open, naked breast, 
Than pin or button with a gem — Less plague, 
The plague spot ; that doth speedy make an end 
One way or t'other, girl — Yet, never love 

d 2 



36 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act n. 

Was warm without a spice of jealousy. 

Thy lesson now — Sir William Fondlove's rich, 

And riches, though they're paste, yet being many, 

The jewel love we often cast away for. 

I use him but for Master Waller's sake. 

Dost like my policy ? 

LYDIA. 

You will not chide me ? 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Nay, Lydia, I do like to hear thy thoughts, 
They are such novel things— plants that do thrive 
With country air ! I marvel still they flower, 
And thou so long in town ! Speak freely, girl ! 

LYDIA. 

I cannot think love thrives by artifice, 
Or can disguise its mood, and show its face. 
I would not hide one portion of my heart 
Where I did give it and did feel 'twas right, 
Nor feign a wish, to mask a wish that was, 
Howe'er to keep it. For no cause except 
Myself would I be lov'd. What were't to me, 
My lover valued me the more, the more 
He saw me comely in another's eyes, 
When his alone the vision I would show, 
Becoming to ? I have sought the reason oft, 
They paint Love as a child, and still have thought, 
It was because true love, like infancy, 
Frank, trusting, unobservant of its mood, 
Doth show its wish at once, and means no more ! 



scene ii.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 37 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Thou'lt find out better when thy time doth come. 

Now would'st believe I love not Master Waller ? 

I never knew what love was, Lydia ; 

That is, as your romancers have it. First, 

I married for a fortune. Having that, 

And being freed from him that brought it me, 

I marry now, to please my vanity, 

A man that is the fashion. O the delight 

Of a sensation, and yourself the cause ! 

To note the stir of eyes, and ears, and tongues, 

When they do usher Mistress Waller in, 

Late Widow Green, her hand upon the arm 

Of her young handsome husband ! — How my fan 

Will be in requisition — I do feel 

My heart begin to flutter now — my blood 

To mount into my cheek ! My honey-moon 

Will be a month of triumphs ! — " Mistress Waller I™ 

That name, for which a score of damsels sigh, 

And but the widow had the wit to win ! 

Why, it will be the talk of East and West, 

And North and South ! — The children loved the man, 

And lost him so — I liked, but there I stopp'd ; 

For what is it to love, but mind and heart 

And soul upon another to depend ? 

Depend upon another ! — Nothing be 

But what another wills !— Give up the rights 

Of mine own brain and heart ! — I thank my stars 

I never came to that extremity ! [Goes out. 



38 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act n. 

LYDIA. 

She never loved, indeed 2 — She knows not love, 

Except what's told of it ! — She never felt it. 

To stem a torrent, easy, looking at it ; 

But once you venture in, you nothing know 

Except the speed with which you're borne away, 

Howe'er you strive to check it. She suspects not 

Her maid, not she, brings Master Waller hither. 

Nor dare I undeceive her. Well might she say 

Her young and handsome husband ! Yet his face 

And person are the least of him, and vanish 

When shines his soul out through his open eye I 

He all but says he loves me ! — His respect 

Has vanquish'd me ! He looks the will to speak 

His passion, and the fear that ties his tongue — 

The fear ? — He loves not honestly ! — and yet 

I'll swear he loves ! — I'll swear he honours me ! 

It is but my condition is a bar, 

Denies him give me all. But knew he me 

As I do know myself ! — Whate'er his purpose, 

When next we speak, he shall declare it to me. [Goes out. 



SCENE III— SIR WILLIAM FONDLOVE'S. 



Enter Constance, dressed for riding, and Phoebe. 

CONSTANCE. 

Well, Phoebe, would you know me ? Are those locks 
That cluster on my forehead and my cheek, 



scene in.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 39 

Sufficient mask ? Show I what I would seem, 
A lady for the chase ? My- darken'd brows 
And heigh ten'd colour, foreign to my face, 
Do they my face pass off for stranger too ? 
What think you ? 

PH(EBE. 

That he'll ne'er discover you. 

CONSTANCE. 

Then send him to me — say a lady wants 
To speak with him — unless indeed it be 
A man in lady's gear — I look so bold 

And speak so gruff ! Away ! (Phceb Egoes out.) That I am glad 
He stays in town, I own ; but if I am, 
'Tis only for the tricks M play upon him ; 
And now begin — persuading him his fame 
Hath made me fancy him, and brought me hither 
On visit to his worship. Soft ! his foot ! 
This he ? — Why, what has metamorphosed him, 
And changed my sportsman to fine gentleman? 
Well he becomes his clothes ! — But check my wonder, 
Lest I forget myself — Why, what an air 
The fellow hath ! — A man to set a cap at ! 
Enter Wildrake. 

WILD RAKE. 

Kind lady, I attend your fair commands. 

CONSTANCE. 

My veiled face denies me justice, sir, 
Else would you see a maiden's blushing cheek 
Do penance for her forwardness, too late 
I own repented of. Yet if 'tis true, 



40 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act ii. 

By our own hearts of others we may judge, 
Mine in no peril lies that's shown to you, 
Whose heart I'm sure is noble. Worthy sir, 
Souls attract souls, when they're of kindred vein. 
The life that you love, I love. Well I know, 
'Mongst those who breast the feats of the bold chase, 
You stand without a peer ; and for myself 
I dare avow 'mong such, none follows them 
With heartier glee than I do. 

WILDRAKE. 

Churl were he 

That would gainsay you, madam ! 

CO N sta N ce — courtesy ing. 
What delight 

To back the flying steed, that challenges 
The wind for speed ! — seems native more of air 
Than earth ! — whose burden only lends him fire ! — 
Whose soul, in his task, turns labour into sport ! 
Who makes your pastime his ! I sit him now ! 
He takes away my breath ! — He makes me reel ! 
I touch not earth — I see not — hear not — All 
Is ecstacy of motion ! 

WILDRAKE. 

You are used, 

I see, to the chase. 

CONSTANCE. 

I am, Sir ! Then the leap, 

To see the saucy barrier, and know 

The mettle that can clear it ! Then your time 

To prove you master of the manage. Now 



scene in.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 41 

You keep him well together for a space, 
Both horse and rider braced as you were one, 
Scanning the distance — then you give him rein, 
And let him fly at it, and o'er he goes 
Light as a bird on wing. 

WILDRAKE. 

'Twere a bold leap, 

I see, that turn'd you, madam. 

const \nce — courtesying. 
Sir, you're good ! 

And then the hounds, sir ! Nothing I admire 
Beyond the running of the well- train'd pack. 
The training's every thing ! Keen on the scent ! 
At fault none losing heart !— but all at work ! 
None leaving his task to another ! — answering 
The watchful huntsman's caution, check, or cheer, 
As steed his rider's rein ! Away they go ! 
How close they keep together ! — What a pack I 
Nor turn nor ditch nor stream divides them — as 
They moved with one intelligence, act, will ! 
And then the concert they keep up ! — enough 
To make one tenant of the merry-wood, 
To list their jocund music ! 

WILDRAKE. 

You describe 

The huntsman's pastime to the life ! 

CONSTANCE. 

I love it ! 

To wood and glen, hamlet and town, it is 



42 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act ii. 

A laughing holiday ! — Not a hill-top 
But's then alive ! — Footmen with horsemen vie, 
All earth's astir, roused with the revelry 
Of vigour, health, and joy ! — Cheer awakes cheer, 
While Echo's mimic tongue, that never tires, 
Keeps up the hearty din ! Each face is then 
Its neighbour's glass — where gladness sees itself, 
And, at the bright reflection, grows more glad ! 
Breaks into tenfold mirth ! — laughs like a child ! 
Would make a gift of its heart, it is so free ! 
Would scarce accept a kingdom, 'tis so rich ! 
Shakes hands with all, and vows it never knew 
That life was life before ! 

W1LDRAKE. 

Nay, every way 

You do fair justice, lady, to the chase; 

But fancies change. 

CONSTANCE. 

Such fancy is not mine. 

WILD RAKE. 

I would it were not mine, for your fair sake. 
I have quite given o'er the chase. 

CONSTANCE. 

You say not so ! 

WILDRAKE. 

Forsworn, indeed, the sportsman's life, and grown, 
As you may partly see, town gentleman. 
I care not now to mount a steed, unless 



scene in.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 43 

To amble 'long the street ; no paces mind, 

Except my own, to walk the drawing-room, 

Or in the ball-room to come off with grace; 

No leap for me, to match the light coupe ; 

No music like the violin and harp, 

To which the huntsman's dog and horn I find 

Are somewhat coarse and homely minstrelsy : 

Then fields of ill-dress'd rustics, you'll confess, 

Are well exchanged for rooms of beaux and belles ; 

In short, I've ta'en another thought of life — 

Become another man ! 

CONSTANCE. 

The cause, I pray ? 

WILDRAKE. 

The cause of causes, lady. 

CONSTANCE. 

He's in love ! [Aside. 

WILDRAKE. 

To you, of women, I would name it last ; 

Yet your frank bearing merits like return : 

I that did hunt the game, am caught myself 

In chase I never dreaufd of! [Goes out 

CONSTANCE. 

He is in love ! 

Wildrake's in love ! 'Tis that keeps him in town, 

Turns him from sportsman to town-gentleman. 

I never dream'd that he could be in love ! 

In love with whom ?— Ill find the vixen out ! 



44 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act hi. 

What right has she to set her cap at him ? 

I warrant me, a forward artful minx ! 

I hate him worse than ever. — I'll do all 

I can to spoil the match. He'll never marry — 

Sure he will never marry ! He will have 

More sense than that ! My back doth ope and shut — 

My temples throb and shoot — I am cold and hot ! 

Were he to marry, there would be an end 

To neighbour Constance — neighbour Wildrake — why, 

I should not know myself! [Enter Trueworth. 

Dear Master True worth, 

What think you ? — Neighbour Wildrake is in love ! 

In love ! — would you believe it, master Truewortk ? 

Ne'er heed my dress and looks, but answer me. 

Know'st thou of any lady he has seen 

That's like to cozen him ? 

TEUEWORTH. 

I am not sure — 

We talk'd to-day about the Widow Green ! 

CONSTANCE. 

Her that my father fancies. — Let him wed her ! 

Marry her to-morrow — if he will, to-night. 

I can't spare neighbour Wildrake — neighbour Wildrake ! 

Although I would not marry him myself, 

I could not bear that other married him ! 

Go to my father — 'tis a proper match ! 

He has my leave ! He's welcome to bring home 

The Widow Green. I'll give up house and all ! 



scene in.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 45 

She would be mad to marry neighbour Wildrake : 

He would wear out her patience — plague her to death, 

As he does me. — She must not marry him ! [.They go out. 



46 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act iii. 



ACT III. 
SCENE I.— A ROOM IN WIDOW GREEN'S. 



Enter Master Waller, following Lydia. 

MASTER WALLER. 

But thou shalt hear me, gentle Lydia. 

Sweet maiden, thou art frighten'd at thyself ! 

Thy own perfections 'tis that talk to thee. 

Thy beauty rich ! — thy richer grace ! — thy mind, 

More rich again than that, though richest each ! 

Except for these, I had no tongue for thee, 

Eyes for thee ! — ears !— had never follow'd thee ! — 

Had never loved thee, Lydia ! — Hear me ! ■ 

LYDIA. 

Love 

Should seek its match. — No match am I for thee. 

MASTER WALLER. 

Right ! Love should seek its match ; and that is, love 
Or nothing ! Station — fortune — find their match 
In things resembling them. They are not love ! 
Comes love (that subtle essence, without which 
Life were but leaden dulness! — weariness ! 
A plodding trudger on a heavy road !) 
Comes it of title deeds which fools may boast ? 
Or coffers vilest hands may hold the keys of? 



scene i.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 47 

Or that ethereal lamp that lights the eyes 

To shed their sparkling lustre o'er the face, 

Gives to the velvet skin its blushing glow, 

And burns as bright beneath the peasant's roof 

As roof of palaced prince ? Yes ! Love should seek 

Its match — then give my love its match in thine, 

Its match which in thy gentle breast doth lodge 

So rich— so earthly, heavenly fair and rich, 

As monarchs have no thought of on their thrones, 

Which kingdoms do bear up. 

LYDIA. 

Wast thou a monarch, 

Me wouldst thou make thy queen ? 

MASTER WALLER. 

I would ! 

LYDIA. 

What !— Pass 

A princess by for me ? 

MASTER WALLER. 

I would. 

LYDIA. 

Suppose 

Thy subjects would prevent thee? 

MASTER WALLER. 

Then, in spite 
Of them ! 

LYDIA. 

Suppose they were too strong for thee ? 



48 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act hi. 

MASTER WALLER. 

Why then, I'd give them up my throne— content 
With that thoiTdst yield me in thy gentle breast. 

LYDIA. 

Can subjects do what monarchs do ? 

MASTER WALLER. 

Far more ! 
Far less ! 

LYDIA. 

Among those things, were more their power, 
Is marriage one ? 

MASTER WALLER. 

Yes. 

LYDIA. 

And no part of love, 

You say, is rank or wealth ? 

MASTER WALLER. 

No part of love. 

LYDIA. 

Is marriage part of love ? 

MASTER WALLER. 

At times it is, 

At times is not. Men love and marry— love 

And marry not. 

LYDIA. 

Then, have they not the power ; 

So must they hapless part with those they love. 

MASTER WALLER. 

O no ! not part ! How could they love and part ? 



scene i.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 49 

LYDIA. 

How could they love not part, not free to wed ? 

MASTER WALLER. 

Alone in marriage doth not union lie ! 

LYDIA. 

Alone where hands are free ! — O yes — alone ! 
Love that is love, bestoweth all it can ! 
It is protection, if 'tis anything, 
Which nothing in its object leaves exposed 
Its care can shelter. — Love that's free to wed, 
Not wedding, doth profane the name of love, 
Which is, on high authority to Earth's, 
For Heaven did sit approving at its feast, 
A holy thing ! — Why make you love to me ? 
W T omen whose hearts are free, by nature tender, 
Their fancies hit by those they are besought by, 
Do first impressions quickly — deeply take ; 
And, balk'd in their election, have been known 
To droop a whole life through ! Gain for a maid, 
A broken heart ! — to barter her young love, 
And find she changed it for a counterfeit ! 

MASTER WALLER. 

If there is truth in man, I love thee !— Hear me ! 
In wedlock, families claim property, 
Old notions, which we needs must humour often, 
Bar us to wed where we are forc'd to love ! 
Thou hear'st ? 

LYDIA. 

I do. 



50 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act hi. 

MASTER WALLER. 

My family is proud ; 

Our ancestor whose arms we bear, did win 
An earldom by his deeds. 'Tis not enough 
I please myself !— I must please others, who 
Desert in wealth and station only see. 
Thou hear'st ? 

LYPIA. 

I do. 

MASTER WALLER 

I cannot marry thee, 

And must I lose thee ? — Do not turn away ! 

Without the altar I can honour thee ! 

Can cherish thee, nor swear it to the priest ; 

For more than life I love thee ! 

LYDIA. 

Say thou hat'st me, 

And I'll believe thee. — Wherein differs love 
From hate, to do the work of hate— destroy ? 
Thy ancestor won title by his deeds ! 
Was one of them to teach an honest maid 
The deed of sin — first steal her love, and then 
Her virtue ? If thy family is proud, 
Mine, Sir, is worthy ! if we are poor, the lack 
Of riches, Sir, is not the lack of shame ! 
That I should act a part, would raise a blush, 
Nor fear to burn an honest brother's cheek ! 
Thou wouldst share a throne with me ! — Thou wouldst rob 
me of 



SCENE 



THE LOVE^CHASE. 51 



A throne !— reduce me from dominion to 

Base vassalage !— pull off my crown for me, 

And give my forehead in its place a brand ! 

You have insulted me. — To show you, Sir, 

The heart you make so light of you are beloved — 

But she that tells you so, tells you beside 

She ne'er beholds you more ! [Goes out. 

MASTER WALLER. 

Stay, Lydia !— No ! — 

'Tis vain ! She is in virtue resolute, 

As she is bland and tender in affection. 

She is a miracle, beholding which 

Wonder doth grow on wonder! — What a maid ! 

No mood but doth become her — yea adorn her. 

She turns unsightly anger into beauty ! 

Sour scorn grows sweetness, touching her sweet lips ! 

And indignation, lighting on her brow, 

Transforms to brightness, as the cloud to gold 

That overhangs the sun ! I love her! —Ay ! 

And all the throes of serious passion feel 

At thought of losing her !— so my light love, 

Which but her person did at first affect, 

Her soul has metamorphos'd — made a thing 

Of solid thoughts and wishes— I must have her ! 

Enter Widow Green— unnoticed by Waller, who 
continues abstracted. 
widow green. 
What ! — Master Waller and contemplative ! 
Presumptive proof of love ! Of me he thinks ! 

e 2 



•52 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act hi. 

Revolves the point " to be or not to be ! " 

" To be ! " by all the triumphs of my sex ! 

There was a sigh ! My life upon't, that sigh 

If construed would translate " Dear Widow Green ! " 

MASTER WALLER. 

Enchanting woman ! 

WIDOW GREEN. 

That is I ! — most deep 
Abstraction, sure concomitant of love. 
Now could I see his busy fancy's painting, 
How should I blush to gaze upon myself. 

MASTER WALLER. 

The matchless form of woman ! The choice culling 

Of the aspiring artist, whose ambition 

Robs Nature to out-do her — the perfections 

Of her rare various workmanship combines 

To aggrandize his art at Nature's cost, 

And make a paragon ! 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Gods ! how he draws me ! 

Soon as he sees me, at my feet he falls ! 

Good Master Waller ! 

MASTER WALLEK. 

Ha ! The Widow Green ! 

WIDOW GREEN. 

He is confounded ! — So am I. O dear ! 
How catching is emotion.— He can't speak ! 
O beautiful confusion ! Amiable 
Excess of modesty with passion struggling ! 



scene i.J THE LOVE-CHASE. 53 

Now comes he to declare himself, but wants 
The courage. — I will help him. — Master Waller ! 
Enter Sir William Fondlove. 

SIR WILLIAM FONDLOVE. 

Dear Widow Green ! 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Sir William Fondlove ! 

MASTER WALLER. 

Thank 

My lucky stars ! \_Aside. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

I would he had the gout, 

And kept his room! {aside.) — You're welcome, dear Sir 

William ! 
'Tis very, very kind of you to call. 
Sir William Fondlove — Master Waller. Pray 
Be seated, gentlemen. — He shall requite me 
For his untimely visit. Though the nail 
Be driven home, it may the clinching yet 
To make the hold complete ! For that I'll use him. [Aside. 
You are looking monstrous well, Sir William ! and 
No wonder. You're a mine of happy spirits ! 
Some women talk of such and such a style 
Of features in a man. — Give me good humour ; 
That lights the homeliest visage up with beauty, 
And makes the face, where beauty is already, 
Quite irresistible I 

SIR WILLIAM. 

That's hitting hard. [Aside. 



54 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act hi. 

Dear Widow Green, don't say so ! On my life 
You flatter me. — You almost make me blush. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

I durst not turn to Master Waller now, 

Nor need I. — I can fancy how he looks ! 

I warrant me he scowls on poor Sir William, 

As he could eat him up. — I will improve 

His discontent, and so make sure of him. [Aside. 

I flatter you, Sir William ? O you men ! 

You men, that talk so meek, and all the while 

Do know so well your power ! Who would think 

You had a marriageable daughter ! You 

Did marry very young. 

SIR WILLIAM. 

A boy !— A boy 

Who knew not his own mind. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Your daughter 's twenty. 

Come, you at least were twenty when you married ; 

That makes you forty. 

SIR WILLIAM. 

dear ! Widow Green. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Not forty ? 

SIR WILLIAM. 

You do quite embarrass me ! 

1 own I have the feelings of a boy, 

The freshness and the glow of springtime yet, — 
The relish yet for my young school-days' sports ; 



scene i.] THE LOVE-CBASE. 55 

Could whip a top — could shoot a taw — could play 
At prison-bars and leap-frog, so I might — 
Not with a limb, perhaps, as supple, but 
With quite as supple will. — Yet I confess 
To more than forty ! 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Do you say so ? Well, 

I '11 never guess a man's age by his looks 

Again. — Poor Master Waller ! He must writhe 

To hear I think Sir William is so young. 

I'll turn his visit yet to more account. [Aside. 

A handsome ring, Sir William, that you wear ! 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Pray look at it. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

The mention of a ring 
Will take away his breath. 

MASTER WALLER. 

She must be mine 

Whate'er her terms ! [Aside. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Til steal a look at him ! 

MASTER WALLER. 

What ! though it be the ring ? — the marriage ring ? 

If that she sticks at, she deserves to wear it ! 

C, the debate which love and prudence hold ! [Aside. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

How highly he is wrought upon ! — His hands 



56 THE LOVE-CHASE. ^ [act in 

Are clench'd ! — I warrant me his frame doth shake ! 
Poor Master Waller ! I have fill'd his heart 
Brimful with passion for me. — The delight 
Of proving thus my power ! 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Dear Widow Green ! — 

She hears not ! How the ring hath set her thinking ! 

Ill try and make her jealous (aside). — Widow Green ! 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Sir William Fondlove ! 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Would you think that ring 
Could tell a story ? 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Could it ? Ah, Sir William ! 
I fear you are a rogue. 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Ono! 

WIDOW GREEN. 

You are ! 

SIR WILLIAM. 

No, on my honour ! Would you like to hear 
The story of the ring ? 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Much, — very much. 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Think 'st we may venture draw our chairs apart 
A little more from Master Waller ? 



scene i.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 57 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Yes. 

He'll bring it to a scene ! Dear — dear Sir William, 

How much I am oblig'd to him ! A scene ! 

Gods, we shall have a scene ! — Good Master Waller, 

Your leave I pray you for a minute, while 

Sir William says a word or two to me. 

He durst not trust his tongue for jealousy ! [Aside. 

Now, dear Sir William. 

SIR WILLIAM. 

You must promise me 
You will not think me vain. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

No fear of that. 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Nor given to boast. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

O ! dear Sir William ! 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Nor 
A flirt ! 

WIDOW GREEN. 

O ! who would take you for a flirt ? 

SIR WILLIAM. 

How very kind you are ! 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Go on, Sir William. 



58 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act hi. 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Upon my life, I fear you'll think me vain ! 
I'm cover'd with confusion at the thought 
Of what I've done. 'Twas very, very wrong 
To promise you the story of the ring ; 
Men should not talk of such things. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Such as what ? 
As ladies' favours ? 

SIR WILLIAM. 

'Pon my life, I feel 

As I were like to sink into the earth. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

A lady then it was gave you the ring ? 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Don't ask me to say yes, but only scan 

The inside of the ring. How much she's mov'd. [Aside. 

MASTER .WALLER. 

They to each other company enough ! 

I, company for no one but myself. 

I'll take my leave, nor trouble them to pay 

The compliments of parting. Lydia ! Lydia ! \_Goes out. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

What's here? " Eliza ! " — So it was a lady ! 

How wondrously does Master Waller bear it. 

He surely will not hold much longer out. [Aside. 

Sir William ! Nay, look up ! What cause to cast 

Your eyes upon the ground ? What an it were 

A lady ? 



THE LOVE-CHASE. b9 

SIR WILLIAM. 
WIDOW GREEN. 



You're not angry ? 
No! 

SIR WILLIAM. 

She is. 

I'll take the tone she speaks in "gainst the word, 
For fifty crowns. I have not told you all 
About the ring ; though I would sooner die 
Than play the braggart ! — yet as truth is truth, 
And told by halves, may from a simple thing, 
By misconstruction, to a monster grow, 
I'll tell the whole truth ! 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Dear Sir William, do ! 

SIR WILLIAM. 

The lady was a maid, and very young ; 
Nor there in justice to her must I stop, 
But say that she was beautiful as young, 
And add to that that she was learned too, 
Almost enough to win for her that title. 
Our sex, in poor conceit of their own merits, 
And narrow spirit of monopoly, 
And jealousy which gallantry eschews, 
Do give to women who assert their right 
TV minds as well as we. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

What ! a blue-stocking ? 



60 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act hi. 

SIR WILLIAM. 

I see.- — She'll come to calling names at last. [Aside. 

I should offend myself to quote the term. 

But to return, for yet I have not done ; 

And further yet may go, then progress on 

That she was young, that she was beautiful. 

A wit and learned are nought to what's to come — 

She had a heart ! 

widow green (who during Sir W.'s speech has turned 

gradually). 

What, Master Waller gone ! [Aside. 

SIR WILLIAM. 

I say she had a heart 

widow green (starting up — Sir William also). 
A plague upon her ! 

SIR WILLIAM. 

I knew she would break out ! [Aside. 

widow green. 
Here, take the ring. 
It has ruin'd me ! 

SIR WILLIAM. 

I vow thou hast no cause 
For anger ! 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Have I not ? I am undone, 

And all about that bauble of a ring. 

SIR WILLIAM. 

YouVe right, it is a bauble. 



scene i.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 61 

WIDOW GREEN. 

And the minx 
That gave it thee ! 

SIR WILLIAM. 

You're right, she was a minx. 

I knew she'd come to calling names at last. \_Aside. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Sir William Fondlove, leave me. 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Widow Green ! 

WIDOW GREEN. 

You have undone me, Sir ! 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Don't say so ! — Don't ! 

It was a girl — a child gave me the ring ! 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Do you hear me, sir ? I bade you leave me. 

SIR WILLIAM. 

If 

I thought you were so jealous. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Jealous, sir ! 

Sir William ! quit my house. 

SIR WILLIAM. 

A little girl 

To make you jealous ! 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Sir, you'll drive me mad ! 



02 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act hi. 

SIR WILLIAM. 

A child, a perfect child, not ten years old ! 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Sir, I would be alone, sir ! 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Young enough 

To dandle still her doll ! 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Sir William Fondlove ! 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Dear Widow Green ! 

WIDOW GREEN. 

I hate you, sir ! — Detest you ! — Never wish 

To see you more ! You have ruin'd me ! — Undone me ! 

A blighted life I wear, and all through you ! 

The fairest hopes that ever woman nourish^ 

You've canker" d in the very blowing ! bloom, 

And sweet destroy 'd, and nothing left me, but 

The melancholy stem. 

SIR WILLIAM. 

And all about 

A little slut 1 gave a rattle to ! — ■ 

Would pester me for gingerbread and comfits ! 

A little roguish feigning ! — A love trick 

I play'd to prove your love ! 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Sir William Fondlove ! 

If of my own house you'll not suffer me 

To be the mistress, I will leave it to you ! 



scene i.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 63 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Dear Widow Green ! The ring 

WIDOW GREEN, 

Confound the ring, 

The donor of it, thee, and every thing ! [Goes out. 

SIR WILLIAM. 

She is over head and ears in love with me. 
She's mad with love ! There's love and all its signs ! 
She's jealous of me unto very death ! 
Poor Widow Green ! I warrant she is now 
In tears ! — I think I hear her sob ! — Poor thing, 
Sir William ! O Sir William ! You have rais'd 
A furious tempest ! Set your wits to work 
To turn it to a calm. No question that 
She loves me !— None then that she'll take me ! So 
I'll have the marriage settlements made out 
To-morrow, and a special licence got, 
And marry her the next day ! I will make 
Quick work of it, and take her by surprise ! 
Who but a widower a widow's match ; 
What could she see with else but partial eyes 
To guess me only forty ! I'm a wonder ! 
What shall I pass for in my wedding suit ! 
I vow I am a puzzle to myself, 
As well as all the world besides. — Odd's life ! 
To win the heart of buxom Widow Green ! [Goes out. 

Widow Green re-enters with Lydia. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

At last the dotard's gone ! Fly, Lydia, fly, 



64 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act hi. 

This letter bear to Master Waller straight ; 

Quick, quick, or I'm undone ! — He is abus'd, 

And I must undeceive him — own my love, 

And heart and hand at his disposal lay. 

Answer me not, my girl — Obey me ! — Fly. \_Goes out. 

LYDIA. 

Untowardly it falls ! — I had resolved 

This hour to tell her I must quit her service ! 

Go to his house ! — I will not disobey 

Her last commands ! — Til leave it at the door, 

And as it closes on me think I take 

One more adieu of him ! — Hard destiny ! [Goes out. 



SCENE II.— A ROOM IN SIR WILLIAM'S. 



Enter Constance. 

CONSTANCE. 

The booby ! He must fall in love, indeed ! 

And now he's nought but sentimental looks 

And sentences, pronounc'd 'twixt breath and voice ! 

And attitudes of tender languishment ! 

Nor can I get from him the name of her 

Hath turn'd him from a stock into a fool. 

He hems and haws, now titters, now looks grave ! 

Begins to speak and halts ! takes oft' his eyes 

To fall in contemplation on a chair, 



scene ill THE LOVE-CHASE. 65 

A table, or the ceiling, wall or floor ! 
I'll plague him worse and worse ! O here he comes ! 
Enter Wild rake. 

WILDRAKE. 

Despite her spiteful usage, I'm resolv'd 

To tell her now. Dear neighbour Constance ! 

CONSTANCE. 

Fool! 

Accost me like a lady, Sir ! I hate 

The name of neighbour ! 

WILDRAKE. 

Mistress Constance, then — 
I'll call thee that. 

CONSTANCE. 

Don't call me any thing ! 

I hate to hear thee speak — to look at thee, 

To dwell in the same house with thee ! 

WILDRAKE. 

In what 

Have I offended ? 

CONSTANCE. 

What ! — I hate an ape ! 

WILDRAKE. 

An ape ! 

CONSTANCE. 

Who bade thee ape the gentleman ? 

And put on dress that don't belong to thee ? 

Go ! change thee with thy whipper-in or huntsman, 

And none will doubt thou wearest thv own clothes. 



66 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act hi. 

WILDRAKE. 

A pretty pass ! Mock'd for the very dress 

I bought to pleasure her ! Untoward things, 

Are women ! [ Aside. Walks backwards and forivards. 

CONSTANCE. 

Do you call that walking ? Pray 
What makes you twist your body so, and take 
Such pains to turn your toes out ? If you'd walk, 
Walk thus ! walk like a man, as I do now ! (walking). 
Is yours the way a gentleman should walk ? 
You neither walk like man nor gentleman ! 
I'll show you how you walk (mimicking him). Do you call 
that walking? 

WILDRAKE. 

My thanks, for a drill-sergeant twice a day 

For her sake ! [Aside. 

CONSTANCE. 

Now, of all things in the world, 
What made you dance last night ? 

WILDRAKE. 

What made me dance ? 

CONSTANCE. 

Right ! It was any thing but dancing ! Steps 

That never came from dancing school — nor English, 

Nor Scotch, nor Irish ! — You must try to cut, 

And how you did it ! (cuts). That's the way to cut ! 

And then you chasse ! Thus you went, and thus (mimicking 

him), 
As though you had been playing at hop, step, 



scene ii.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 67 

And jump ! — And yet you look'd so monstrous pleas'd, 
And play'd the simpleton with such a grace, 
Taking the tittering for compliment ! 
I could have box'd you soundly for't. Ten times, 
Denied I that I knew you. 

WJLDRAKE. 

Twenty guineas 

Were better in the gutter thrown than gone 

To fee a dancing master ! [Aside. 

CONSTANCE. 

And you're grown 

An amateur in music ! — What fine air 
W^as that you prais'd last night?—" The W T idow Jones !" 
A country jig they've turn'd into a song. 
You ask'd " if it had come from Italy ?" 
The lady blush'd, and held her peace, and then 
You blush'd and said, " Perhaps it came from France ! " 
And then when blush'd the lady more, nor spoke, 
You said, " At least it came from Germany ! " 
The air was English ! — a true English air ; 
A downright English air ! A common air, 
Old as " When Good King Arthur." Not a square, 
Court, alley, street, or lane, about the town, 
In which it is not whistled, play'd, or sung ! 
But you must have it come from Italy, 
Or Germany, or France. — Go home ! Go home ! 
To Lincolnshire, and mind thy dog and horn ! 
You'll never do for town ! " The Widow Jones" 
To come from Italy ! Stay not in town 

v 2 



68 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act hi. 

Or you'll be married to the Widow Jones, 

Since you've foresworn, you say, the Widow Green ! 

And morn and night they'll din your ears with her ! 

" Well met, dear Master Wildrake.— A fine day ! 

Pray, can you tell whence came the Widow Jones?" 

They love a jest in town !— -To Lincolnshire ! 

You'll never do for town ! — To Lincolnshire ! 

" The Widow Jones" to come from Italy ! [Goes out. 

WILDRAKE. 

Confound the Widow Jones ! 'Tis true ! The air 

Well as the huntsman's triple most I know, 

But knew not then indeed, 'twas so disguis'd 

With shakes and flourishes, outlandish things, 

That mar, not grace, an honest English song ! 

Howe'er the mischief's done ! and as for her 

She is either into hate or madness fallen. 

If madness, would she had her wits again, 

Or I my heart — If hate — My love's undone ; 

I'll give her up. I'll e'en to Master Trueworth, 

Confess my treason — own my punishment — 

Take horse, and back again to Lincolnshire ! [Goes out 

Constance (returning). 
Not here ! I trust I have not gone too far ! 
If he should quit the house ! Go out of town ! 
Poor neighbour Wildrake ! Little does he owe me ! 
From childhood I've been us'd to plague him thus. 
Why would he fall in love, and spoil it all ! 
I feel as I could cry ! He has no right 
To marry any one ! What wants he with 



scene ii.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 69 

A wife ? Has he not plague enough in me ? 
Would he be plagued with any body else ? 
Ever since I have liv'd in town I have felt 
The want of neighbour Wildrake ! Not a soul 
Besides I care to quarrel with, and now 
He goes and gives himself to another ! — What ! 
Am I in love with neighbour Wildrake ? — No. 
I only would not have him marry — niarry ! 
Sooner I'd have him dead than have him marry ! 



70 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act iv. 

ACT IV. 
SCENE I.— A ROOM IN MASTER WALLER'S HOUSE. 



Enter Alice, hastily. 
alice — speaking to the outside. 
Fly, Stephen, to the door ! your rapier ! quick ! — 
Our master is beset, because of one 
Whose part he takes, a maid, whom lawless men 
Would lawlessly entreat ! In what a world 
We live ! — How do I shake ! — With what address 

[Looking out of window. 
He lays about him, and his other arm 
Engag'd, in charge of her whom he defends ! 
A damsel worth a broil ! — Now Stephen, now ! 
Take off the odds, brave lad, and turn the scale ! 
I would I were a swordsman ! How he makes 
His rapier fly ! — Well done ! — O Heaven, there^ blood, 
But on the side that^s wrong ! — Well done, good Stephen ! 
Pray Heaven no life be ta'en ! — Lay on, brave lad ! j 
He has marked his man again ! Good lad— Well done, 
I pray no mischief come ! — Press on him, Stephen ! 
Now gives he ground — Follow thy advantage up ! 
Allow no pause for breath ! — Hit him again ! 
Forbid it end in death ! — Lounge home, good Stephen ! 
How fast he now retreats ! — That spring, I'll swear, 
Was answer to thy point ! — Well fenc'd ! — Well fenc'd ! 
Now Heaven forefend it end in death ! — He flies ! 



scene i.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 71 

And from his comrade, the same moment, hath 
Our master jerk'd his sword. — The day is ours ! 
Quick may they get a surgeon for their wounds, 
And I, a cordial for my flutter'd spirits, 
I vow, I'm nigh to swoon ! 

MASTER WALLER — IDltkoitt. 

Hoa! Alice! Hoa ! 

Open the door ! Quick, Alice ! Quick ! 

ALICE. 

Anon ! 

Young joints do take no thought of aged ones, 

But ever think them supple as themselves. 

MASTER WALLER. 

Alice ! 

alice — opening the door. 
I'm here. A mercy ! — Is she dead ? 

Enter Master Waller bearing Ly dia, fainting. 

MASTER WALLER. 

No ! — She but faints— A chair ! — Quick, Alice, Quick ! 

Water to bathe her temples. (Alice goes out.) Such a turn 

Did fortune never do me ! Shall I kiss 

To life these frozen lips ? — No ! — Of her plight 

'Twere base to take advantage. (Alice returns, Sfc.) All is 

well, 
The blood returns. 

ALICE. 

How wondrous fair she is ! 



72 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act iv. 

MASTER WALLER. 

Thou think'st her so ? — No wonder then should I. [Aside. 
How say yon ? — Wondrous fair ? 

ALICE. 

Yes ; wondrous fair ! 

Harm never come to her ! So sweet a thing 

'Twere pity were abused ! 

MASTER WALLER. 

You think her fair? 

ALICE. 

Ay marry ! Half so fair were more than match 
For fairest she e'er saw mine eyes before ! 
And what a form ! A foot and instep there ! 
Vouchers of symmetry ! A little foot 
And rising instep, from an ankle arching, 
A palm, and that a little one, might span. 

MASTER WALLER. 

Who taught thee thus ? 

ALICE. 

Why who, but her, taught thee ? 

Thy mother ! — Heaven rest her ! — Thy good mother ! 

She could read men and women by their hands 

And feet ! — And here's a hand ! — A fairy palm ! 

Fingers that taper to the pinky tips, 

With nails of rose, like shells of such a hue, 

Berimm'd with pearl, you pick upon the shore ! 

Save these the gloss and tint do wear without. 



scene i.] THE LOVE- CHASE. 73 

MASTER WALLER. 

t 

Why, how thou talk/st ! 

ALICE. 

Did I not tell thee thus 

Thy mother used to talk ? Such hand and foot, 

She would say, in man or woman vouched for nature 

High temper'd ! — soil for sentiment refined ; 

Affection tender ; apprehension quick — 

Degrees beyond the generality ! 

There is a marriage finger ! Curse the hand 

Would balk it of a ring ! 

MASTER WALLER. 

She's quite restor'd, 

Leave us ! — Why casfst thou that uneasy look ? 

Why linger'st thou ? I'm not alone with her. 

My honour's with her too. I would not wrong her. 

ALICE. 

And if thou would'st, thou'rt not thy mother's son. {Goes out, 

MASTER WALLER. 

You are better ? 

LYDIA. 

Much !— Much ! 

MASTER WALLER. 

Know you him who durst 

Attempt this violence in open day ? 

He seeufd as he would force thee to his coach, 

I saw attending. 



74 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act iv 

LYD1A. 

Take this letter, sir, 

And send the answer — I must needs be gone. 

master waller — throwing the letter away. 
I read no letter ! Tell me, what of him 
I saw offend thee ? 

LYDIA. 

He hath often met me, 

And by design I think, upon the street, 

And tried to win mine ear, which ne^er he got 

Save only by enforcement. Presents— gifts 

Of jewels and of gold to wild amount, 

To win an audience, hath he proffered me ; 

Until, methought, my silence — for my lips 

Disdain'd reply where question was a wrong — 

Had wearied him. 0, Sir ! whate'er of life 

Remains to me I had foregone, ere prov'd 

The horror of this hour ! — and you it is 

That have protected me ! 

MASTER WALLER. 

speak not on 't ! 

i LYDIA. 

YouVthat have saved me from mine enemy — 

MASTER WALLER. 

1 pray you to forget it. 

LYDIA. 

From a foe 

More dire than he that putteth life in peril — 



scene i.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 75 

MASTER WALLER. 

Sweet Lydia, I beseech you spare me. 

LYDIA. 

No! 

I will not spare you. — You have brought me safety, 

You whom I fear worse than that baleful foe. [Rises to go, 

master waller — kneeling and snatching her hand. 
Lydia ! 

LYDIA. 

Now make thy bounty perfect. Drop 

My hand. That posture, which dishonours thee, 

Quit ! — for 'tis shame on shame to show respect 

Where we do feel disdain. Throw ope thy gate 

And let me pass, and never seek with me 

By look, or speech, or aught, communion more ! 

MASTER WALLER. 

Thou said'st thou lov'dst me ! , 

LYDIA. 

Yes ! when I believ'd 
My tongue did take of thee its last adieu, 
And now that I do know it — for be sure 
It never bids adieu to thee again — 
Again, I tell it thee ! Release me, sir ! 
Rise ! — and no hindrance to my will oppose, 
That would be free to go. 

MASTER WALLER. 

I cannot lose thee ! 

LYDIA. 

Thou canst not have me ! 



76 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act iv. 

MASTER WALLER. 

No! 

LYDIA. 

Thou canst not. I 

Repeat it — .Yet I'm thine— thine every way, 

Except where honour fences ! — Honour, sir, 

Not property of gentle blood alone ; 

Of gentle blood not always property. 

Thoult not obey me. Still enforcest me ! 

what a contradiction is a man ! 
What in another he one moment spurns, 
The next — he does himself complacently ! 

MASTER WALLER. 

Would'st have me lose the hand that holds my life ? 

LYDIA. 

Hear me and keep it, if thou art a man ! 

1 love thee, — for thy benefit would give 
The labour of that hand ! — wear out my feet ! 
Rack the invention of my mind ! the powers 
Of my heart in one volition gather up ! 

My life expend, and think no more I gave 
Than he who wins a priceless gem for thanks ! 
For such good will canst thou return me wrong ? 

MASTER WALLER. 

Yet, for a while, I cannot let thee go. 
Propound for me an oath that I'll not wrong thee ; 
An oath which, if I break it, doth entail 
Forfeit of earth and heaven. I'll take it— so 
Thou stay'st one hour with me. 



scene i.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 77 

LYDIA. 

No ! — Not one moment ! 

Unhand me, or I shriek ! — I know the summons 

Will pierce into the street, and set me free ! 

I stand in peril while I'm near thee ! She 

Who knows her danger, and delays escape, 

Hath but herself to thank, whate'er befalls ! 

Sir, I may have a woman's weakness, but 

I have a woman's resolution, too, 

And that's a woman's strength ! One foment more ! 

MASTER WALLER. 

Lo ! Thou art free to go ! 

[Rises, and throws himself distractedly into a chair, 
Lydia approaches the door— her pace slackens — she 
pauses with her hand upon the lock — turns and looks 
earnestly on Waller. 

LYDIA. 

I have a word 

To say to thee ; if by thy mother's honour 

Thou swear'st to me thou wilt not quit thy seat. 

MASTER WALLER. 

I swear as thou propounds to me. 

lydia (after a pause, bursting into tears). 
O why — 

Why have you used me thus ? See what youVe done ! 
Essay 'd to light a guilty passion up, 
And kindled in its stead a holy one ! 
For I do love thee ! Know'st thou not the wish 
To find desert doth bring it oft to sight 



78 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act iv. 

Where yet it is not ? so for substance passes 
What only is a phantasm of our minds ! 
I fear'd thy love was guilty — yet my wish 
To find it honest, stronger than my fear, 
My fear with fatal triumph overthrew ! 
Now hope and fear give up to certainty, 
And I must fly thee — yet must love thee still ! 

MASTER WALLER. 

Lydia! By all 

I 

LYDIA. 

I pray you hear me out ! 
Wast right ? was't generous ? was't pitiful ? 
One way or other I might be undone : 
To love with sin — or love without a hope ! 

MASTER WALLER. 

Yet hear me, Lydia ! 

LYDIA. 

Stop ! I am undone ! 

A maid without a heart — robb'd of the soil 

Wherein life's hopes and wishes root and spring, 

And thou the spoiler did me so much hate, 

And vow'd me so much love ! — But I forgive thee ! 

Yea I do bless thee ! \_Rushing up and sinking at his feet. 

Recollect thy oath ! — 

Or in thy heart lodg'd never germ of honour, 

But "'tis a desert all ! 

\_She kisses his hand — presses it to her heart, and kisses it 
again. 



scene ii.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 79 

Farewell then to thee ! [Rises. 

May'st thou be happy ! [Going. 

MASTER WALLER. 

Would'st ensure the thing 
Thou wishest ? 

[She moves towards the door loith a gesture that prohibits 
farther converse. 
Stop ! [She continues to move on, 

sternly resolute ! [She still moves. 

1 mean thee honour ! [She stops and turns towards him. 

Thou dost meditate — 
I know it—flight. Give me some pause for thought, 
But to confirm a mind almost made up. 
If in an hour thou hearst not from me, then 
Think me a friend far better lost than won ! 
Wilt thou do this ? 

LYDIA. 

I will. 

MASTER WALLER. 

An hour decides ! [ They go out severally. 



SCENE II.— A ROOM IN SIR WILLIAM FONDLOVE'S 

HOUSE. 

Enter Wildrake and True worth. 

WILDRAKE. 

You are not angry ? 



$0 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act iv. 

TRUEWORTH. 

No ; I knew the service 

I sent you on, was one of danger. 

WILDRAKE. 

Thank you. 

Most kind you are — And you believe she loves me ; 
And your own hopes give up to favour mine. 
Was ever known such kindness ! Much I fear 
'Twill cost you. 

TRUEWORTH. 

Never mind ! I'll try and bear it. 

WILDRAKE. 

That's right. No use in yielding to a thing. 
Resolve does wonders. Shun the sight of her — 
See other women. Fifty to be found 
As fair as she. 

TRUEWORTH. 

I doubt it. 

WILDRAKE. 

Doubt it not. 

Doubt nothing that gives promise of a cure. 

Right handsome dames there are in Lancashire, 

Whence call'd their women witches ! — witching things ! 

I know a dozen families in which 

You'd meet a courtesy worthy of a bow. 

I'll give you letters to them. 

TRUEWORTH. 

Will you ? 



scene u.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 81 

WILDRAKE. 

Yes. 

TRUE WORTH. 

The worth of a disinterested friend ! 

WILDRAKE. 

Master Trueworth, deeply I'm your debtor ! 

1 own I die for love of neighbour Constance ! 
And thou to give her up for rne ! Kind friend ! 
What won't I do for thee ! — Don't pine to death ; 
I'll find thee fifty ways to cure thy passion, 

And make thee heart-whole, if thouVt so resolv'd. 

Thou shalt be master of my sporting stud, 

And go a hunting. If that likes thee not, 

Take up thy quarters at my shooting lodge ; 

There is a cellar to 't, make free with it. 

I'll thank thee if thou emptiest it. The song 

Gives out that wine feeds love— it drowns it, man ! 

If thou wilt neither hunt nor shoot, try games ; 

Play at loggats, bowls, fives, dominos, draughts, cribbage, 

Backgammon — special receipts for love ! 

And you believe, for all the hate she shows 

That neighbour Constance loves me ? 

TRUEWORTH. 

'Tis my thought. 

WILDRAKE. 

How shall I find it out ? 

TRUEWORTH. 

Affect to love 

Another. Say your passion thrives ; the day 

G 



82 THE LOVE-CHASE. [ac 

Is fix'd, and pray her undertake the part 

Of bridemaid to your bride. 'Twill bring her out. 

WILDRAKE. 

You think she'll own her passion ? 

TRUEWORTH. 

If she loves. 

WILDRAKE. 

I thank thee ! I will try it ! Master Trueworth, 
What shall I say to thee, to give her up, 
And love her so ? 

TRUEWORTH. 

Say nothing. 

WILDRAKE. 

Noble friend ! 

Kind friend ! Instruct another man the way 

To win thy mistress ! Thou'lt not break my heart ? 

Take my advice, thou shalt not be in love 

A month ! Frequent the play-house ! — walk the Parks ! 

Ill think of fifty ladies that I know, 

Yet can't remember now — enchanting ones ! 

And then there's Lancashire ! — and I have friends 

In Berkshire and in Wiltshire, that have swarms 

Of daughters ! Then my shooting lodge and stud ! 

I'll cure thee in a fortnight of thy love ! 

And now to neighbour Constance — yet almost 

I fear accosting her — a hundred times 

Have I essayed to break my mind to her. 

But still she stops my mouth with restless scorn ! 

Howe'er thy scheme I'll try, and may it thrive ! 



scene ii.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 83 

For I am sick for love of neighbour Constance. 
Farewell, dear Master Trueworth ! Take my counsel — 
Conquer thy passion ! Do so ! Be a man ! [Exit. 

TRUEWORTH. 

Feat easy done that does not tax ourselves ! 
Enter Phcebe. 

PHCEBE. 

A letter, sir. [Goes out 

TRUEWORTH. 

Good sooth, a roaming one ! 

And yet slow traveller. This should have reached me 

In Lombardy. — The hand ! Give way, weak seal, 

Thy feeble let too strong for my impatience ! 

Ha ! Wrong'd ! — Let me contain myself ! — Compelled 

To fly the roof that gave her birth ! — My sister ! 

No partner in her flight but her pure honour ! 

I am again a brother. — Pillow, board, 

I know not till I find her. 

Enter Waller. 

WALLER. 

Master Trueworth ! 

' TRUEWORTH. 

Hah ! Master Waller ! Welcome, Master Waller. 

MASTER WALLER. 

Good Master Trueworth, thank you. Finding you 
From home, I e'en made bold to follow you, 
For I esteem you as a man, and fain 
Would benefit by your kind offices. 
But let me tell you first, to your reproof, 

g 2 



84 THE LOVE-CHASE. jact iv. 

I am indebted more than e'er I was 
To praise of any other. I am come, sir, 
To give you evidence I am not one 
Who owns advice is right, and acts not on't. 

TKUEWORTH. 

Pray you, explain. 

MASTER WALLER. 

Will you the bearer be 

Of this to one has cause to thank you, too, 

Though I the larger debtor ? — Read it, sir. 

trueworth — reading the letter. 
" At morn to-morrow, I will make you mine. 
Will you accept from me the name of wife — 
The name of husband give me in exchange ?" 

MASTER WALLER. 

How say you, sir? 

TRUEWORTH. 

'Tis boldly — nobly done ! 

MASTER WALLER. 

If she consents— which affectation, 'twere 
To say I don't — bid her prepare for church, 
And you shall act the father, sir, to her 
You did the brother by. 

TRUEWORTH. 

Right willingly. 

Though matter of high moment I defer, 

Mind, heart, and soul, are all enlisted in ! 

MASTER WALLER. 

May I implore you, haste ! A time is set ! — 

How light an act of duty makes the heart ! [Exeunt together. 



THE LOVE.CHASE. 85 



SCENE III.— ANOTHER CHAMBER IN SIR WILLIAM'S 

HOUSE. 

Constance discovered. 

CONSTANCE. 

I'll pine to death for no man ! Wise it were, 

Indeed, to die for neighbour Wildrake— No ! — 

I know the duty of a woman better — 

What fits a maid of spirit ! I am out 

Of patience with myself, to cast a thought 

Away upon him. Hang him ! Lovers cost 

Nought but the pains of living. I'll get fifty, 

And break the heart of every one of them ! 

I will ! I'll be the champion of my sex, 

And take revenge on shallow fickle man, 

Who gives his heart to fools, and slights the worth 

Of proper women ! I suppose she's handsome ! 

My face 'gainst hers at hazard of mine eyes ! 

A maid of mind ! I'll talk her to a stand ! 

Or tie my tongue for life ! A maid of soul ! 

An artful, managing, dissembling one ! 

Or she had never caught him — he's no man 

To fall in love himself, or long ago 

I warrant he had fallen in love with me ! 

I hate the fool — I do. Ha, here he comes. 

What brings him hither. Let me dry my eyes ; 

He must not see I have been crying. Hang him, 

I have much to do, indeed, to cry for him ! 



86 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act iv. 

Enter Wildrake. 

WILDRAKE. 

Your servant, neighbour Constance. 

CONSTANCE. 

Servant, sir ! 

Now what, I wonder, comes the fool to say, 

Makes him look so important ! 

WILDRAKE. 

Neighbour Constance, 
I am a happy man. 

CONSTANCE. 

What makes you so ? 

WILDRAKE. 

A thriving suit. 

CONSTANCE. 

In Chancery? 

WILDRAKE. 

O, no ! 
In love. 

CONSTANCE. 

O, true ! You are in love ! Go on ! 

WILDRAKE. 

Well, as I said, my suit's a thriving one. 

CONSTANCE. 

You mean you are beloved again ! — I don't 
Believe it. 

WILDRAKE. 

I can give you proof. 

CONSTANCE. 

What proof? 



scene in.] THE-LOVE CHASE. 87 

Love-letters ? She's a shameless maid 

To write them ! Can she spell ? Ay, I suppose 

With prompting of a dictionary ! 

WILDRAKE. 

Nay, 
Without one. 

CONSTANCE. 

I will lay you ten to one 

She cannot spell ! How know you she can spell ? 

You cannot spell yourself ! You write command 

With a single M C— O— M— A— N— D : 

Yours to Co-mand. 

WILDRAKE. 

I did not say she wrote 
Love-letters to me. 

CONSTANCE. 

Then she suffers you to press 
Her hand, perhaps ? 

WILDRAKE. 

She does. 

CONSTANCE. 

Does she press yours ? 

WILDRAKE. 

She does. — It goes on swimmingly ! [Aside. 

CONSTANCE. 

She does ! 

She is no modest woman ! I'll be bound, 

Your arm the madam suffers round her waist ? 

WILDRAKE. 

She does ! 



88 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act iv. 

CONSTANCE. 

She does ! Outrageous forwardness ! 
Does she let you kiss her ? 

WILDRAKE. 

Yes. 

CONSTANCE. 

She should be — 

WILDRAKE. 

What? 

CONSTANCE. 

What you got thrice your share of when at school, 
And yet not half your due ! A brazen-face ! 
More could not grant a maid about to wed. 

WILDRAKE. 

She is so. 

CONSTANCE. 

What? 

WILDRAKE. 

How swimmingly it goes ! [Aside. 

Constance— with suppressed impatience. 
Are you about to marry, neighbour Wildrake ? 
Are you about to marry ? 

WILDRAKE. 

Excellent. [Aside. 

Constance — breaking out. 
Why don't you answer me ? 

WILDRAKE. 

I am. 

CONSTANCE. 

You are — 



scene in.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 89 

I tell you what, sir — You're a fool ! 

WILDRAKE. 

For what? 

CONSTANCE. 

You are not fit to marry ! Do not know 
Enough of the world, sir ! Have no more experience, 
Thought, judgment, than a school-boy ! Have no mind 
Of your own — your wife will make a fool of you, 
Will jilt you, break your heart. I wish she may, 
I do ! You have no more business with a wife 
Than I have ! Do you mean to say indeed 
You are about to marry ? 

WILDRAKE. 

Yes, indeed. 

CONSTANCE. 

And when ? 

WILDRAKE. 

I'll say to-morrow ! [Aside. 

CONSTANCE. 



When, I say ? 
To-morrow. 



WILDRAKE. 



CONSTANCE. 

Thank you : m ^c v beholden to you ! 
You've told me on't in time ! I'm very much 
Beholden to you, neighbour W T ildrake ! And, 
I pray you, at what hour? 

WILDRAKE. 

That we have left 



90 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act iv. 

For you to name. 

CONSTANCE. 

For me ! 

WILDRAKE. 

For you. 

CONSTANCE. 

Indeed, 

You're very bountiful, I should not wonder. 

Meant you I should be bridesmaid to the lady ? 

WILDRAKE. 

'Tis just the thing I mean. 

Constance— -furiously. 
The thing you mean ! 

Now pray you, neighbour, tell me that again, 
And think before you speak ; for much I doubt 
You know what you are saying. Do you mean 
To ask me to be bridesmaid ? 

WILDRAKE. 

Even so. 

CONSTANCE. 

Bridesmaid ? 

WILDRAKE. 

Ay, bridesmaid ! — It is coming fast 

Unto a head. [ Aside. 

CONSTANCE. 

And 'tis for me you wait 

To fix the day ? It shall be doomsday then ! 

WILDRAKE. 

Be doomsday ? 



scene in.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 91 

CONSTANCE. 

Doomsday ! 

WILDRAKE. 

Wherefore doomsday! 

Constance — boxes him. 
Wherefore ! — 

Go ask your bride, and give her that from me. 
Look, neighbour Wildrake ! you may think this strange, 
But don't misconstrue it ! For you are vain, sir ! 
And may put down for love what comes from hate. 
I should not wonder, thought you I was jealous; 
But I'm not jealous, sir ! — would not be so 
Where it was worth my while — I pray henceforth 
We may be strangers, sir — you will oblige me 
By going out of town. I should not like 
To meet you on the street, sir. Marry, sir ! 
Marry to-day ! The sooner, sir, the better. 
And may you find you have made a bargain, sir. 
As for the lady !— much I wish her joy. 
I pray you send to me no bride-cake, sir I 
Nor gloves — If you do, I'll give them to my maid ! 
Or throw them into the kennel— or the fire. 
I am your most obedient servant, sir ! [Goes out 

WILDRAKE. 

She is a riddle, solve her he who can ! [Goes o^t 



92 THE LOVE-CHASE. 



ACT V. 
SCENE I.— A ROOM IN SIR WILLIAM FONDLOVE'S. 



Sir William seated with two Lawyers. 

SIR WILLIAM. 

How many words you take to tell few things 
Again, again say over what, said once, 
Methinks we're told enough. 

FIRST LAWYER. 

It is the law, 

Which labours at precision. 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Yes; and thrives 

Upon uncertainty — and makes it, too, 
With all its pains to shun it. I could bind 
Myself, methinks, with but the twentieth part 
Of all this cordage, sirs. — But every man, 
As they say, to his own business. You think 
The settlement is handsome ? 

FIRST LAWYER. 

Very, sir. 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Then now, sirs, we have done, and take my thanks. 
Which, with your charges, I will render you 
Again to-morrow. 



scene i.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 93 

FIRST LAWYER. 

Happy nuptials, sir ! {Lawyers go out. 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Who passes there ? Hoa ! send my daughter to me, 
And Master Wildrake too ! I wait for them. 
Bold work ! — without her leave to wait upon her, 
And ask her go to church ! — Tis taking her 
By storm. What else could move her yesterday 
But jealousy ? What causeth jealousy 
But love? She's mine the moment she receives 
Conclusive proof like this, that heart and soul, 
And mind and person, I am all her own ! 
Heigh ho ! These soft alarms are very sweet, 
And yet tormenting too ! Ha ! Master Wildrake, 

[Enter Wildrake. 
I am glad you're ready, for I'm all in arms 
To bear the widow off. Come ! Don't be sad ; 

All must go merrily, you know, to-day ! 

She still doth bear him hard I see ! The girl 

Affects him not, and Trueworth is at fault, 

Though clear it is that he doth die for her. [Aside. 

Well, daughter — So 1 see you're ready too. 

[Enter Constance. 
Why, what's amiss with thee ? 

phcebe (entering). 
The coach is here. 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Come, Wildrake, offer her your arm. 



94 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act v. 

CONSTANCE (to WlLDRAKE). 

I thank you ! 

I am not an invalid ! — can use my limbs ! 
He knows not how to make an arm befits 
A lady lean upon. 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Why, teach him then. 

CONSTANCE. 

Teach him ! Teach Master Wildrake ! Teach indeed ! 
I taught my dog to beg, because I knew 
That he could learn it. 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Peace, thou little shrew ! 

Ill have no wrangling on my wedding-day ! 

Hear, take my arm. 

CONSTANCE. 

Ill not !— Ill walk alone ! 

Live, die alone ! I do abominate 

The fool and all his sex ! 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Again ! 

CONSTANCE. 

I have done. 

When do you marry, Master Wildrake ? She 

Will want a husband goes to church with thee ! {They go out. 



THE LOVE-CHASE. 95 



SCENE II. 



Widow Green's Dressing-room — Widow Green discovered at 
her Toilet, attended by Amelia — Waller's Letter to Lydia 
in her hand. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

bond of destiny ! — Fair bond, that seal'st 
My fate in happiness ! — I'll read thee yet 
Again — although thou'rt written on my heart. 
But here his hand, inditing thee, did lie ! 
And this the tracing of his fingers ! So 

1 read thee that could rhyme thee, as my prayers ! 
" At noon to-morrow will I make thee mine. 

Wilt thou receive from me the name of wife — 
The name of husband give me in exchange?'" 
The traitress ! to break ope my billet-doux, 
And take the envelope ! — But I forgive her, 
Since she did leave the rich contents behind. 
Amelia, give this feather more a slope, 
That it sit droopingly. I would look all 
Dissolvement, nought about me to bespeak 
Boldness ! I would appear a timid bride, 
Trembling upon the verge of wifehood, as 
I ne'er before had stood there ! That will do. 
Oh dear ! — how I am agitated — don^t 
I look so ? I have found a secret out. 
Nothing in women strikes a man so much 



96 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act v 

As to look interesting ! Hang this cheek 

Of mine ! It is too saucy ; what a pity 

To have a colour of one's own ! — Amelia ! 

Could you contrive, dear girl, to bleach my cheek, 

How I would thank you ! I could give it then 

What tint I chose, and that should be the hectic 

Bespeaks a heart in delicate commotion. 

I am much too florid ! Stick a rose in my hair, 

The brightest you can find, "'twill help, my girl, 

Subdue my rebel colour — Nay, the rose 

Doth lose complexion, not my cheek ! Exchange it 

For a carnation. That's the flower, Amelia ! 

You see how it doth triumph o'er my cheek. 

Are you content with me ? 

AMELIA. 

I am, my lady. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

And whither, think you, has the hussy gone, 
Whose place you fill so well ?— Into the country ? 
Or fancy you she stops in town ? 

AMELIA. 

I can't 
Conjecture. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Shame upon her ! — Leave her place 

Without a moment's warning — with a man too ; 

Seem'd he a gentleman that took her hence ? 

AMELIA. 

He did. 



scene ii.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 97 

WIDOW GREEN. 

You never saw him here before ? 

AMELIA. 

Never. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Not lounging on the other side 

Of the street, and reconnoitering the windows ? 

AMELIA. 

Never. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

'Twas plann'd by letter. Notes, you know, 

Have often come to her — But I forgive her, 

Since this advice she chanc'd to leave behind 

Of gentle Master Waller's wishes, which 

I bless myself in blessing ! — Gods, a knock ! 

'Tis he ! Show in those ladies are so kind 

To act my bridesmaids for me on this brief 

And agitating notice (Amelia goes out). Yes, I look 

A bride sufficiently ! And this the hand 

That gives away my liberty again. 

Upon my life it is a pretty hand, 

A delicate and sentimental hand ! 

No lotion equals gloves ; no woman knows 

The use of them that does not sleep in them ! 

My neck hath kept its colour wondVously 

Well ; after all it is no miracle 

That I should win the heart of a young man. 

My bridesmaids come, Oh dear ! 

H 



98 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act v. 

Enter two Ladies. 

FIRST LADY. 

How do you ? A good morning to you — Poor dear, 
How much you are affected ! Why we thought 
You ne'er would summon us. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

One takes, you know, 

When one is flurried, twice the time to dress. 
My dears, has either of you salts ? I thank you ! 
They are excellent; the virtue's gone from mine, 
Nor thought I of renewing them. — Indeed, 
I'm unprovided quite for this affair. 

FIRST LADY. 

I think the bridegroom 's come ! 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Don't say so ! How 
You've made my heart jump ! 

FIRST LADY. 

As you sent for us, 

A new launch'd carriage drove up to the door ; 

The servants all in favours. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

'Pon my life, 

I never shall get through it ; lend me your hand. 

[Half rises, and throws herself back on her chair again. 
I must sit down again ! There came just now 
A feeling like to swooning over me. 
I am sure before 'tis over I shall make 
A fool of myself! I vow I thought not half 



scene ii.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 99 

So much of my first wedding-day ! I'll make 
An effort. Let me lean upon your arm, 
And give me yours, my dear. Amelia, mind 
Keep near me with the smelling bottle. 

servant — entering. 
Madam, 
The bridegroom 's come. [Goes out. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

The brute has knocked me down ! 

To bolt it out so ! I had started less 

If he had fired a cannon at my ear. 

How shall I ever manage to hold up 

Till all is done ! I'm tremor head to foot. 

You can excuse me, can't you ? — Pity me. 

One may feel queer upon one's wedding-day. [ They go out. 



SCENE THE LAST.— A DRAWING-ROOM. 



Enter Servants, showing in Sir William Fondlove, Con- 
stance, and Master Wildrake — Servants go out again. 

sir william {aside to Wildrake). 
Good Master Wildrake, look more cheerfully ! — Come, 
You do not honour to my wedding-day. 
How brisk am I ? My body moves on springs ! 
My stature gives no inch I throw away ; 

h2 



100 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act v. 

My supple joints play free and sportfully ; 
Vm every atom what a man should be. 

WILDRAKE. 

I pray you pardon me, Sir William ! 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Smile, then, 

And talk, and rally me ! I did expect, 

Ere half an hour had passed, you would have put me 

A dozen times to the blush. Without such things, 

A bridegroom knows not his own wedding-day. 

I see ! Her looks are glossary to thine, 

She flouts thee still, I marvel not at thee ; 

There's thunder in that cloud ! I would to-day 

It would disperse, and gather in the morning. 

I fear me much thou know'st not how to woo. 

I'll give thee a lesson. Ever there's a way, 

But knows one how to take it ! Twenty men 

Have courted Widow Green. Who has her now ? 

I sent to advertise her that to-day 

I meant to marry her. She wouldn't open 

My note. And gave I up ? I took the way 

To make her love me ! I did send again 

To pray her leave my daughter should be bridesmaid. 

That letter too came back. Did I give up ? 

I took the way to make her love me ! Yet 

Again I sent to ask what church she chose 

To marry at ; my note came back again ; 

And did I yet give up ? I took the way 

To make her love me. All the while I found 



scene in] THE LOVE-CHASE. 101 

She was preparing for the wedding. Take 
A hint from me ! She comes ! My fluttering heart 
Gives note the empress of its realms is near. 
Now, Master Wildrake, mark and learn from me 
How it behoves a bridegroom play his part. 

Enter Widow Green, supported by her Bridesmaids, 
and followed by Amelia. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

I cannot raise my eyes— they cannot bear 
The beams of his, which, like the sun's, I feel 
Are on me, though I see them not, enlightening 
The heaven of his young face ; nor dare I scan 
The brightness of his form, which symmetry 
And youth and beauty in enriching vie. 
He kneels to me ! Now grows my breathing thick, 
As though I did await a seraph's voice, 
Too rich for mortal ear. 

SIR WILLIAM. 

My gentle bride ! 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Who's that ? who speaks to me ? 

SIR WILLIAM. 

These transports check. 

Lo, an example to mankind I set 

Of amorous emprise ; and who should thrive 

In love if not Love's soldier, who doth press 

The doubtful siege, and will not own repulse. 

Lo ! here I tender thee my fealty, 

To live thy duteous slave. My queen thou art, 



102 THE LOVE-CHASE. 

In frowns or smiles, to give me life or death. 

Oh, deign look down upon me ! In thy face 

Alone I look on day ; it is my sun 

Most bright ; the which denied, no sun doth rise. 

Shine out upon me, my divinity ! 

My gentle Widow Green ! my wife to be ; 

My love, my life, my drooping, blushing bride ! 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Sir William Fondlove, you're a fool ! 

SIR WILLIAM. 

A fool ? 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Why come you hither, sir, in trim like this ? 
Or rather why at all ? 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Why come I hither ? 
To marry thee ! 

WIDOW GREEN. 

The man will drive me mad ! 
Sir William Fondlove, I'm but forty, sir, 
And you are sixty, seventy, if a day ; 
At least you look it, sir. I marry you ! 
When did a woman wed her grandfather ? 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Her brain is turned ! 

WIDOW GREEN. 

YouVe in your dotage, sir, 

And yet a boy in vanity ! But know 

Yourself from me : you are old and ugly, sir. 



scene in.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 103 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Do you deny you are in love with me ? 

WIDOW GREEN. 

In love with thee ! 

SIR WILLIAM. 

That you are jealous of me ? 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Jealous ! 

STR WILLIAM. 

To very lunacy ! 

WIDOW GREEN. 

To hear him ! 

SRWILLIAM. 

Do you forget what happened yesterday ? 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Sir William Fondlove! — 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Widow Green, fair play ! — 

Are you not laughing ? Is it not a jest ? 

Do you believe me seventy to a day ? 

Do I look it ? Am I old and ugly ? Why, 

Why do I see those favours in the hall, 

These ladies dress'd as bridesmaids, thee as bride, 

Unless to marry me ? \_Knock. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

He is coming, sir, 

Shall answer you for me ! 

Enter Waller, with gentlemen as Bridesmen. 



104 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act v, 

MASTER WALLER. 

Where is she? What ! 

All that bespeaks the day, except the fair 

That's queen of it ? Most kind of you to grace 

My nuptial so ! But that I render you 

My thanks in full, make full my happiness, 

And tell me where's my bride ? 

WIDOW GREEN. 



She 's here. 
Where ? 



MASTER WALLER. 



WIDOW GREEN. 

Here, 

Fair Master Waller! 

MASTER WALLER. 

Lady, do not mock me. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Mock thee ! My heart is stranger to such mood ; 

'Tis serious tenderness and duty all. 

I pray you mock not me, for I do strive 

With fears and soft emotions, that require 

Support. Take not away my little strength, 

And leave me at the mercy of a feather. 

I am thy bride ! If 'tis thy happiness 

To think me so, believe it, and be rich 

To thy most boundless wishes ! Master Waller, 

I am thy waiting bride, the Widow Green ! 

MASTER WALLER. 

Lady, no widow is the bride I seek, 



scene in.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 105 

But one the church has never given yet 
The nuptial blessing to ! 

WIDOW GREEN. 

What mean you, sir? 

Why come a bridegroom here, if not to me 

You sued to be your bride ? Is this your hand, sir ? 

[Shoiving letter. 

MASTER WALLER. 

It is ! address'd to your fair waiting-maid. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

My waiting-maid ! The laugh is passing round, 
And now the turn is yours, sir. She is gone ! 
Eloped ! run off ! and with the gentleman 
That brought your billet-doux. 

MASTER WALLER. 

Is Trueworth false ? 

He must be false. What madness tempted me 
To trust him with such audience as I knew 
Must sense, and mind, and soul of man entrance, 
And leave him but the power to feel its spell ! 
Of his own lesson he would profit take, 
And plead at once an honourable love, 
Supplanting mine, less pure, reformed too late I 
And if he did, what merit I, except 
To lose the maid I would have wrongly won, 
And, had I rightly prized her, now had worn ? 
I get but my deservings ! 

[Enter Trueworth, leading in Lydia richly 
dressed, and veiled from head to foot. 



106 THE LOVE-CHASE. 

Master Trueworth, 

Though for thy treachery thou hast excuse, 
Thou must account for it, so much I lose ! 
Sir, you have wrong'd me to amount beyond 
Acres, and gold, and life, which makes them rich. 
And compensation I demand of you, 
Such as a man expects, and none but one 
That's less than man refuses ! Where's the maid 
You falsely did abstract ? 

TRUEWORTH. 

I took her hence, 

But not by guile, nor yet enforcement, sir, 

But of her free will, knowing what she did. 

That, as I found I cannot give her back, 

I own her state is chang'd, but in her place 

This maid I offer you, her image far 

As feature, form, complexion, nature go ! 

Resemblance halting only there, where thou 

Thyself didst pause, condition, for this maid 

Is gently born and generously bred. 

Lo ! for your fair loss, fair equivalent ! 

MASTER WALLER. 

Show me another sun, another earth 

I can inhabit, as this Sun and Earth ; 

As thou dids't take the maid, the maid herself 

Give back herself, her sole equivalent ! 

TRUEWORTH. 

Her sole equivalent I offer you ! 

My sister, sir, long counted lost, now found, 



scene in.] THE LOVE-CHASE. 107 

Who fled her home unwelcome bands to 'scape 

Which a half-father would have forc'd upon her, 

Taking advantage of her brother's absence 

Away on travel in a distant land ! 

Return'd, I missed her ; of the cause received 

Invention, coward, false and criminating ! 

And gave her up for lost, but happily 

Did find her yesterday — Behold her, sir ! [Removes veil. 

MASTER WALLER. 

Lydia ! 

WIDOW GREEN. 

My waiting-maid ! 

WALLER. 

Thy sister, Trueworth ! 

Art thou fit brother to this virtuous maid ? 

trueworth (giving Lydia to Waller). 
Let this assure thee. 

lydia {to Widow Green). 
Madam, pardon me 
My double character, for honesty, 
No other end assumed — and my concealment 
Of Master Waller's love. In all things else 
I trust I may believe you hold me blameless ; 
At least, I'll say for you I should be so, 
For it was pastime, madam, not a task 
To wait upon you ! Little you exacted, 
And ever made the most of what I did 
In mere obedience to you. 



108 THE LOVE-CHASE. [act v. 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Give me your hand ; 

No love without a little roguery. 

If you do play the mistress well as maid, 

You will bear off the bell ! There never was 

A better girl ! 1 have made myself a fool. 

I am undone, if goes the news abroad. 

My wedding-dress I donned for no effect 

Except to put it off ! I must be married. 

I'm a lost woman, if another day 

I go without a husband ! — What a sight 

He looks by Master Waller ! — Yet he is physic 

I die without, so needs must gulp it down. 

I'll swallow him with what good grace I can, 

Sir William Fondlove ! 

SIR WILLIAM. 

Widow Green ! 

WIDOW GREEN. 

I own 

I have been rude to you. Thou dost not look 

So old by thirty, forty, years as I 

Did say. ThouVt far from ugly — very far ; 

And as I said, Sir William, once before, 

Thou art a kind and right good humoured man : 

I was but angry with you ! Why, I'll tell you 

At more convenient season — and you know 

An angry woman heeds not what she says, 

And will say anything ! 



scene in.] THE LOVE-CEIASE. 109 

SIR WILLIAM. 

I were unworthy 

The name of man, if an apology 

So gracious came off profitless, and from 

A lady ! Will you take me, Widow Green ? 

WIDOW GREEN. 

Hem ! [Courtesies. 

TRUEWORTH (to WlLDRAKE). 

Master Wildrake dressed to go to church ! 

She has acknowledged, then, she loves thee ? — No ? 

Give me thy hand, I'll lead thee up to her. 

WILDRAKE. 

'Sdeath ! what are you about ? You know her not. 
She'll brain thee ! 

TRUEWORTH. 

Fear not : come along with me. 
Fair Mistress Constance! 

CONSTANCE. 

Well, sir ! 

WILDRAKE (tO TRUE WORTH;. 

Mind! 

TRUEWORTH. 

Don't fear. 

Love you not neighbour Wildrake ? 

CONSTANCE. 

Love, sir ! 

TRUEWORTH. 

Yes, 
You do. 



•110 THE LOVE-CHASE. 

CONSTANCE. 

He loves another, sir, he does ! 

I hate him. We were children, sir, together 

For fifteen years and more ; there never came 

The day we did not quarrel, make it up, 

Quarrel again, and make it up again : 

Were never neighbours more like neig'n hours, sir, 

Since he became a man, and I a woman, 

It still has been the same ; nor cared I ever 

To give a frown to any other, sir. 

And now to come and tell me he's in love, 

And ask me to be bridesmaid to his bride ! 

How durst he do it, sir ! — to fall in love ! 

Methinks at least he might have asked my leave, 

Nor had I wondered had he asked myself, sir ! 

WILDRAKE. 

Then give thyself to me ! 

CONSTANCE. 

How ! what ! 

WILDRAKE. 

Be mine, 

Thou art the only maid thy neighbour loves. 

CONSTANCE. 

Art serious, neighbour Wildrake ? 

WILDRAKE. 

In the church 

I'll answer thee, if thou wilt take me ; though 

I neither dress, nor walk, nor dance, nor know 



scene in.] THE LOVE-CHASE. Ill 

" The Widow Jones " from an Italian, French 
Or German air. 

CONSTANCE. 

No more of that. — My hand. 

WILDRAKE. 

Giv'st it as free as thou didst yesterday ? 

Constance — affecting to strike him. 

Nay! 

WILDRAKE. 

i will thank it, give it how thou wilt. 

widow green. 
A triple wedding ! May the Widow Green 
Obtain brief hearing e'er she quits the scene, 
The Love-Chase to your kindness to commend 
In favour of an old, now absent, friend ! 



THE END. 



LONDON : 

BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, 

WHITEFRIARS. 



LbAg' 



